


Unbelievable

by 0KKULTiC



Series: Stories From Newvoice Bakery [1]
Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker!Seungsik, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, In which a jerk goes soft because of a group of idiots, M/M, MedStudent!Seungwoo, Patissier!Sejun, Slice of Life, Small Towns, Warning: Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-06-12 05:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15332601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC
Summary: Kang Seungsik runs Newvoice Bakery, a fixture in his small town's square. He figures he's in for another run of the mill, quiet summer. However, the arrival of a new guy makes for an interesting change...





	1. Chapter 1

Long grass ebbs and dips, rustling loudly under the gentle urging of the summer breeze. The blades sway like the waves of the ocean, gushing and flowing this way and that. Remnant moonlight catches them, making the verdant surface gleam like water while clouds cast little shadows in between. The moon’s silvery rays begin to dip lower into the sky, giving way to the rising sun. Soon, the train will reach its final destination. It’s something Seungwoo has to remind himself as he pries his eyelids back open. 

 

_ It’s not my fault _ , he thinks to himself. The steady movement of the train car effectively rocks him to his sleep. All the while its tracks sing him the muffled lullaby of metal on metal. Seungwoo purses his lips in displeasure at the sight out the window. It looks like something out of a storybook - one of those romance novels about love ignited in some provincial towns. The type his mother likes to read. Buildings had long given way to grassy meadows, and soon the few, sparse signs of civilization had even been reduced. Now, all Seungwoo sees as he passes through is the occasional farm accompanied with rolling hills.

 

He frowns.

  
_ This _ , he thinks, _ this is what I left my life for? _

 

_ No _ ; he shakes his head.

 

He knows what he really left his life for: opportunity. The little town’s rehabilitation center was renowned nationwide. For some reason. Han Seungwoo didn’t know why some boony town in the middle of nowhere held one of the country’s finest facilities, but it did. He’d stayed up all night after submitting his application to the prestigious residency program. 

 

“It’ll all be worth it.”

 

Those were the words he told himself over and over again. He genuinely believes them, he does, but he still can’t help the tiny twinge of regret he feels. Maybe, he thinks, one of the hospitals in the city wouldn’t have been quite so bad. But, no, he decides, the healing center is renowned for its recovery rates. People always tell unbelievable stories of patients walking out of the place with a spring in their step after being immobile for months. Not only that, but Seungwoo knows his friends would’ve killed him had he declined. Nearly everyone he knew had applied. Even after two of his classmates got interviewed twice, he was the only person to land a third one and, eventually, the residency.

 

Seungwoo pouts, looking out at the vast expanse of green meadows waving in the wind. He sighs. It’s gonna be a long summer.

 

* * *

 

“Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!”

 

“Ugh,” Seungsik groans, stuffing his face into his pillow. It’s barely light outside - as usual - and he’s got a long laundry list of things to do. Starting with: wake up, sleepyhead. Rubbing his tired eyes, Seungsik rouses himself out of bed with relative ease to start the morning. Things go as they always do: throw water on face, throw toothbrush in mouth, throw body into shower.

 

The day’s duties run through Seungsik’s head like a stock market ticker while he stands under the jets of water that never is quite warm enough (or occasionally too damn hot). One of the drawbacks of the old building he’d gotten used to. Showers are quick for Seungsik. He’s never the type to just sit in there for awhile; he was more the practical type. Get in. Do your business. Get out. That’s what he does.

 

Seungsik’s hands thoughtlessly slap on skincare products in their rehearsed sequence. He glances at his phone to see the time - four AM. Part of Seungsik laments that he’s gotta be up at such an ungodly hour; still, he’s gotten so used it, he hardly cares anymore. _ Maybe I was meant to be a grandpa ever since birth _ , he thinks to himself. Clothes, much like every other part of Seungsik’s life, are simple and unfussy. He throws on jeans that don’t say “I’ve given up” while also not really saying “I’m trying today” either. The maximum effort part of the morning comes when Seungsik blow dries his hair, and he does so quickly.

 

Cleaned up and dressed, Kang Seungsik is ready to take on the day. He heads to the door of his apartment, giving it a once over before leaving for work. Everything seems to be in its place - or, well, slightly out of place. There’s nothing fancy in the loft: he’s got a bed he had to build himself, a TV stand and TV, a fridge and a table that could sit no more than two people. All of these things are, of course, draped and decored generously with knick knacks, dishes, and clothes. Woops.

 

“I’ll take care of it later,” Seungsik mutters to himself. He always tells himself he’ll clean up, but he never does. Has no reason to, really. Not like anyone’s visiting. Grandma and grandpa - who so generously lease him the place at a meager price - haven’t bothered climbing stairs they don’t need to for years. Seungsik hardly blames them, he wouldn’t either at their age. His parents are typically the hosts, not the other way around; so, young Mr. Kang finds his esteemed residence fairly undisturbed. He’s fine with that.

 

“Well, off to work!” Seungsik says. Taking a deep breath, he descends the steps outside his apartment door into the back parking lot. A wall of muggy humidity hits him when he leaves the safety of his apartment door. Summer had barely started and it’s already hot as hell. Even though the sun isn’t even up, Seungsik can tell it’s gonna be sweltering. Great. Reaching the bottom, he fiddles with his keys to unlock the door at the back of his building. Swinging it open with enthusiasm, Seungsik announces:

 

“At work!” He chuckles to himself. The joke never really gets old. He starts flicking light switches, doing his morning walk-through.  _ It’s wild _ , Seungsik thinks,  _ how I can call something like this my own. Mostly. _

 

Newvoice Bakery: established by his very own grandparents. Now, Seungsik runs the show. Well, he doesn’t sign the checks  _ yet _ . He takes care of almost everything else, though. At four AM, he wakes up to bake the first batches, he greets customers, manages their handful of employees and shoulders a multitude of other managerial tasks.

 

The bakery occupies a cute little spot nestled in between a vintage boutique and gifts shop in the heart of the rural town center. The business has been in its spot along the downtown square for nearly half a century as a fixture of the town. On the outside, there is even a window through which people can order if they do not wish to go inside. 

 

Walking in, one feels like they’re enveloped, wrapped in a warm blanket. An inviting warm wood spans the floor, inviting light into the space. It’s something that Seungsik had always loved, ever since childhood. There’s something to be said about a physical space that can just make someone feel welcome. An eclectic assortment of vintage furniture is arranged in such a way that nothing looks out of place, even though no two chairs look alike. Plants are present in abundance, whether hanging in pots from the ceiling or rising from pots in the ground (his grandma’s touch). On one side, immediately upon walking in, there is the long pastry case, lit up to display the day’s confections; on the other, seating. There are tables ranging from small to long, and a few couches and loveseats. The wall opposite the bakery counter has exposed brick, giving the old place a surprisingly chic feel (Seungsik commends his grandparents for never patching it up when they’d originally wanted to renovate it). The space goes fairly deep which compensates well for how narrow it is.

 

The town itself pretty small and provincial. The small downtown square has bars, a theater, local shops, and a park in the middle of the square. It’s pretty much the only place in the town that can be considered a hub of activity. Aside from that there’s a few farms, a school, a lot of open fields, and a very nice rehabilitation center. Half the people know each other and they’re always genuinely interested in how everyone’s doing. At the very center of it, for all these years? Newvoice Bakery - and, consequently: Seungsik. 

 

“Knock. Knock.”

 

The glass of the front door rattles with the person’s raps on the frame. Seungsik strides over, letting his fellow baker and longtime friend in.

 

“Morning Sejun!” Seungsik says, a bright smile on his face.

 

Sejun winces, “How are you always so happy at four in the morning?” 

 

“I like to fake it ‘til I make it,” Seungsik shrugs, locking the door behind the other. “Was just about to put the coffee on!”

 

“Thank goodness,” Sejun sighs in relief as he follows Seungsik around the pastry case. The younger of the two strides into the back room that sits just beyond the kitchen; he yells through the open door as he changes into a tee shirt. “Any specials this morning or just the usuals? You gonna make those ugly rolls again?” Seungsik chuckles to himself. 

 

Sejun had gone away for university for a few years, but he’d recently returned. When he came back, he mentioned his remote programming gig wasn’t consistent work; so, like the friend he is, Seungsik offered him a job. Sejun had always been by Seungsik’s side throughout childhood. Trailing him by just a year, the two may as well have been peers. The two used to wreak havoc across the bakery until they were old enough to get roped into work (“If you’re going to take up space, you might as well be useful!” Seungsik’s grandpa had always said). 

 

Unintentionally, the two learned the tricks of the trade. Sejun had always had a more delicate hand, strangely enough. For how much of a pest he can be, it never fails to surprise Seungsik how beautifully he can craft a pastry. When it came to petit fours or little confections, Sejun’s hands move with incredible delicacy and care. He always likes to experiment with garnishes and plating to present the most perfect moment on a plate he possibly can. 

 

Seungsik thinks of himself as almost the opposite. He doesn’t lack the capacity to create refined baked goods, but he lacks the motivation. For the older one, he has always viewed pastries, sweets, baked goods - all of it - as something entirely different. Sejun is an artist, he relishes in creating an unforgettable moment on a plate, a perfect harmony of flavors for the nose, tongue, and eyes. Seungsik just likes… food.

 

He likes joy. He likes smiles. In his perspective, what matters most is the joy that someone feels in that moment. People don’t go for a cookie or tiramisu because they think it’s good for their health. They do it because it’s good for their soul. A sweet’s power to bring someone that moment of joy, that “aha!”, that sweet moment - that’s what he loves. Joy can come from something beautiful, but it doesn’t have to. That’s the philosophy Seungsik adopted in childhood, and ever since, he’s gone with it. So far it hasn’t run the place to the ground. So that’s something. Ultimately, the two serve to balance each other out.

 

“Those ‘ugly rolls’ were delicious, for your information! They just looked weird because they have like three different kinds of nuts in them!” Seungsik retorts as he scoops grounds into the coffee filter.

 

Sejun emerges in a plain white tee, tying an apron around his waist, “You know food has to look edible, right?” He snarks. Seungsik throws a noncommital kick in the other’s general direction. The younger one dodges with ease, but the message is sent. That’s what counts.

 

“Alright, what’s on the agenda this morning?” Sejun asks, running to the sink to wash his hands.

 

“Like I said, just the usuals from you for petit fours. The panna cotta should be set, build those up, they’re in the small fridge, not the walk-in. Oh- Hold the victoria sponge until later, though. Could you actually start on the scones, too? I was up all last night thinking about how we should totally just add oranges to the cranberry scones. It would really lift it up, I think-”

 

“You thought about oranges all last night?”

 

“...Yes.”

 

Sejun laughs, “Dork.”

 

“Don’t hate! Ugh! Look, just zest some orange into some of the dough and, um… Juice! Put in some juice. Like- not even a cup.”

 

“I’ll give it a go real fast. Anything weird on your plate?”

 

“Nah, just the usual,” Seungsik doesn’t waste any time grabbing the bucket of all purpose flour they keep beneath the metal counter. 

 

In a couple of hours, customers would be lining up by the window or in front of the pastry case, and the day would truly begin. Until then, Seungsik enjoys the groove that he and Sejun always fall into. They chat, drink coffee, and maneuver around one another, shoving trays into the ovens, grabbing ingredients, folding dough or refilling their cups. 

 

It’s just another ordinary day, but Seungsik is fine with that.

 

\--------

 

Seungwoo lugs his massive suitcase up the fire escape of the building he’d arrived at. The landlord is, apparently, out early in the morning (probably sleeping); but, they left a fairly instructive letter on the door. Its content were: a set of keys (two for the door, two for the mailbox down low) and a letter welcoming him. 

 

The med student doesn’t even bother reading the letter. He sees some emphatic exclamation points, a few smiley faces, and the word “welcome”. Like he cares. The keys, however, are important, and he makes haste inserting them into the lock. It opens with a satisfying click, and Seungwoo nearly bursts through the door to the tiny loft area.

 

Rental options, unsurprisingly, were pretty slim when Seungwoo started hunting a few months prior. He landed on the listing by pure chance through the newspaper of all things. The newspaper. Well,  _ he  _ hadn’t looked at it - his mama had. She graciously texted him the contact information of the apparent fossils leasing the space. Luckily said fossils sounded nice on the phone, and when they heard he was going to work at the Sunrise Healing Center, they were thrilled. In desperate need, Seungwoo happily took the cheap rate they offered without even seeing the place. They had offered basic furnishings and even included a couple of utilities.

 

“Home, sweet home,” Seungwoo mutters to himself, flicking on the light switches. His first reaction is relief that he hadn’t been catfished or mislead. The place is, as described, a small studio apartment. It has all the necessities: a small kitchen in the front corner (with fridge and microwave), a full sized bed on the far wall, a desk that would fit his laptop and books, and even a new looking TV on a console table. The wifi is already set up (he’d called to make sure it was up prior to arrival) and it’s not too hot, meaning the AC works. It’s plain; white walls and beige carpet (except for the kitchen which has laminate wood). What catches Seungwoo’s attention the most is the view. There’s actually a pretty decent sized window across the room from the door.

 

The student plops his overstuffed duffel bag down, walking over to the window on pure instinct. He presses his nose to it, glancing across the breadth of his view. It’s the town square. His eyes trace the lettering of the signs - some neon and some painted wood or brushed metal. He purses his lips, glancing at all he can see. There’s a bakery, a tavern, a boutique, and a gift shop. He notices an assortment of restaurants varying in cuisine from what appears to be family style to more elegant bistros. A tiny grocer brandishes a chalk sign boasting its selection of “locally sourced selection of produce and snacks”. Oh, and there’s a bar! 

 

“Thank God,” Seungwoo thinks. He highly doubts it’s anything near a bastion of sophistication or even necessarily very fun. Still, it’s somewhere to get a drink. Seungwoo hopes that the other residents won’t be total tightasses. Maybe, just maybe, they can go out some time. He’s fairly resigned to being bored out of his wits but not opposed to being pleasantly surprised. It seems as if he’s found the one place in the middle of nowhere town that could be considered a hub for activity. For that, Seungwoo is glad. 

 

Speaking of activity, something catches Seungwoo’s eye.

 

He glances across the square to the storefront almost immediately across from his flat. It’s the bakery. His eyes blow wide open as he eyes the queue forming at the window. 

 

“Yikes,” He mumbles.  _ Do people in the country really get up this early just to eat a damn pastry? I can’t relate _ .

 

Feeling inclined to do very much the opposite, Seungwoo stretches his body and yawns. It’s nap time. He lazily lumbers over to the door of his flat, clicking the lock shut. Briefly, he wonders,  _ do people even lock their doors around here? Heh. I bet they don’t. The old grandma didn’t even tell me to lock my bike up. _

 

Seungwoo shrugs. He doesn’t care. What he does care about is getting his sheets on the bed, so he can finally fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

“Yah- Where’s my spatula?” Sejun calls from the kitchen. Seungsik had taken a seat at one of the tables in the dining area to go over the books on his laptop. Early afternoon is a slow time for the bakery. People are done with their lunch breaks, and the school hasn’t let out yet. Seungsik typically uses the relatively peaceful time to knock out delivery orders and do paperwork. Sejun’s toward the end of his shift, and he’s tasked with finishing some of the more detailed deliveries or special orders in the afternoon.

 

“Why would I know that?” Seungsik asks, hollering across the narrow space into the open kitchen door.

 

“You know I leave things places all the time!”

 

Seungsik rolls his eyes; he thinks for a few seconds before responding, “Is it next to the coffee maker again?”

 

“Why would it be-” Sejun’s voice halts, “Thank you!” He draws out the “you” exaggeratedly before falling into silence again.

 

“Hey- You almost done? Hanse’s gonna be here any second. Byungchan, too.”

 

“Yeah, this one’s simple, just gotta make the frosting nice and smooth, along with some lettering.”

 

“Cool, you can finish that up and go.”

 

“Thanks, boss!” Sejun chirps before going quiet again.

 

“Ding! Ding!”

 

As if on cue, the little bell attached to the door rings out. Two sets of loud steps follow through.

 

“Guess what I found by the dumpster!” One of the young men calls out with a grin.

 

Seungsik doesn’t bother looking up from his work, “Byungchan, what did I tell you about rifling through the trash at that toxic waste facility?” Byungchan doubles over with loud laughter. Seungsik had hired Byungchan on as his afternoon and evening help shortly after bringing Sejun on. He has a dignified air about him which customers eat up (especially young girls); however, Seungsik knows his true colors. The one behind him, however, seems infinitely less amused.

 

“Wow, rude! That’s no way to talk about your best deliveryman!” Hanse feigns grave offense.

 

“Hanse, you’re our only deliveryman,” Byungchan retorts.

 

“See? Best.”

 

“Okay, well when you’re done acting like clowns, Byungchan can you sweep out here before the evening rush comes in.”

 

“Yes, sir!” Byungchan says, giving a joking salute before walking toward the back to change.

 

“Alright, so what’ve we got today?” Hanse asks, throwing himself into the chair nearest to Seungsik’s.

 

“The usual four dozen cookies to the healing center and one small cake to a residence. The cake gets delivered first, it’s on the other end of town.”

 

“Damn. Where to?”

 

“East side, here’s the address,” Seungsik slips Hanse a slip of paper.

 

“Alright, they ready yet?”

 

“The cookies are packed, Sejun’s finishing up the cake. Nothing fancy, one tier with some lettering and simple frosting, but-”

 

“Be careful,” Hanse rolls his eyes, “I know. When am I ever not careful?”

 

“Literally always.”

 

“Okay, but I’ve never messed up any of the merchandise!”

 

“Yet.”

 

“Oh my god so rude-” Hanse raises his voice, “So rude! This is workplace hostility! Where is HR?”

 

“I’m HR!” Sejun yells from the kitchen. “What’s your complaint?”

 

“Seungsik’s mean!”

 

“Wh- Oh my god,” Seungsik shakes his head, laughing to himself.

 

“Ding! Ding-ding!”

 

Seungsik’s attention is brought to the door for five seconds; however, he sees that it’s not a real customer, so he goes back to his bookkeeping. 

 

Hanse is the first to greet him,“Oh, hey, what’s up Chan?” 

 

“Yo! I didn’t know you were here!” Chan replies enthusiastically, bringing Hanse in for the weird handshake-hug thing they do.

 

“His bike is in front of the shop, how could you not?” Seungsik comments. They ignore him.

 

“Yeah. Not too many deliveries today, though. When do you get off?”

 

“I can break away probably like seven.”

 

“Dude, Drake dropped his new album you gotta come over and listen. Bring leftovers?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Yo, who wants an extra cookie?” Byungchan emerges from the back with a deck broom in one hand and a plate with a cookie on another.

 

“I do!” “Me!” Chan and Hanse look at each other tensely for a moment. Their pupils dash between the other and Byungchan with plate in hand. 

 

Byungchan’s eyes go wide, and before getting caught in a singularity, he throws the plate onto the pastry case, dashing off with the broom. Hanse and Chan make a break for the thing, reaching toward it simultaneously. 

 

“C’mon man, you work here-” “Exactly, I work for this cookie!” “You got the last extra!” The two begin grab the edge of the plate, yanking it toward themselves. 

 

“Oh, boy, here we go,” Seungsik mutters. The sound of struggling and sharp words echoes across the empty bakery. Seungsik is glad that nobody’s there. He loves the two idiots like they’re his brothers - they basically are. Still, it doesn’t mean he wants them to break everything. Ever since childhood they’d been like this. Separate, they were idiots, but together, they were destructive idiots.

 

Hanse had grown up down the street from Seungsik, and he’d known the kid since he was allowed to play outside. He’s always been a bit of a pest and often forgets to respect the elder in Seungsik; but, he’s got a great heart beneath his buffoonery. When Seungsik had started to learn the ropes of management, he’d offhandedly suggested they let Hanse do deliveries during the summer. Hanse was restless, and with his friends all working, he’d started getting kind of gloomy. Grandma and Grandpa Kang actually thought it was a great idea - the first of many Seungsik proposed to the bakery. 

 

Then there’s Chan. Chan had moved into town around middle school. He was shy at first, but Hanse (of course it was Hanse) broke down the barrier pretty quick. Soon they couldn’t shut him up. Seungsik had always gotten the impression that Chan was a nice kid, but when he’s around Hanse, he’s something else.

 

“And voila!” Sejun steps out of the kitchen with a white box hin his hands, “She’s ready. I know I say this every time, but seriously be car- Whoa!” Seungsik’s eyes go wide and he glares at the commotion in front of him. Apparently Chan had gotten ahold of the plate and had decided playing keep away was a good idea. Sejun had narrowly avoided a calamity, swiftly getting the cake out of the path of destruction the two wrought.

 

“This is so unfair, you’ve got big arms!” Hanse groans, hopping toward Chan as he steps backward. 

 

“Try harder!” Chan taunts him. He holds the plate high above his head, behind him.

 

“Thank you!” Byungchan throws his broom down, swooping in and swiping the cookie off of the plate. Before Hanse or Chan can do anything - or really even realize what he’s doing - he takes a massive bite out of the confection. “ _ Mm-mmm _ ! Oh, so good!”

 

“Wh- No!” Chan’s jaw drops in devastation.

 

“Nooo!” Hanse falls onto his knees dramatically, throwing his hands out toward Byungchan. 

 

“Mmmm- Oh, are these yours Sejun?”

 

Sejun snorts, “Nope, these were Seungsik’s.”

 

“Sublime!” Byungchan exaggeratedly kisses his fingers.

 

“Boo, you,” Chan pouts, crossing his arms. Hanse joins him, getting off the floor to do so.

 

“Chan what are you doing here, anyways?” Byungchan asks with a laugh.

 

Chan’s mouth opens, but he pauses for a second; it takes him a second to find his words, “I was on an errand for the restaurant. Just had to pick up some eggs. You got any?”

 

“No, Chan, we’re a bakery that doesn’t have eggs,” Sejun chuckles sarcastically. 

 

“What’re you offering?” Seungsik asks, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

 

Chan works for the Japanese restaurant across the square that specializes in ramen. They do pretty traditional stuff along with some comfort food. Being across the square makes it mighty convenient for Chan to stop by. Often. Luckily, the owners are pretty laid back and have been friends with Seungsik’s grandparents for decades. Making exchanges and trades is just another part of day-to-day business for both of them.

 

“Twenty grams of nori.”

 

“Hmm…”

 

“Come on, remember- last time you made those crackers? They were gone before you even had time to properly portion them.”

 

Seungsik purses his lips but gives in quickly, “Okay, fine.”

 

“Thank you!” Chan trots into the kitchen; he knows where the eggs are, he’s been sent to grab them so many times it’s basically routine. Seungsik wonders if Chan’s work bothers putting eggs on their purchase orders anymore. Hanse joins Chan in the back, loading the deliveries inside the (very cushioned) cooler he straps to the back of his bike. Sejun helps Hanse load it, and Chan scribbles Seungsik an IOU.

 

“All set, little red?” Seungsik snarks at Hanse.

 

Hanse snorts, “Wh- I don’t even have red hair anymore.”

 

“It’s still kind of red!”

 

“It’s faded.”

 

“Come on, you know it’s perfect. You put sweets in your basket to deliver to grandma…”

 

“Oh- We should get him a red hoodie!” Sejun says with a clap.

 

“Yes!” Seungsik agrees, “We can put the bakery’s name on it.”

 

“Like a little billboard on wheels.”

 

“He’s like our mascot, almost.”

 

“You guys know I’m right here, right?” Hanse laughs. 

 

“Yeah. Why… Is that exactly? Don’t you have deliveries to do?”

 

“Ugh, fine. Slave drivers!” Hanse leaves in a dramatic huff, and Chan bursts out of the back at his heels.

 

“Thanks for the eggs see you later bye!” Chan shouts as he clamors after Hanse.

 

“Clang!! Ding-ding-ding!”

 

The door slams loudly behind the two, and the volume in the bakery feels mute in their wake.

 

“Ah,” Sejun says with a chuckle, “Young love.”

 

Byungchan snorts, “Do you think we’re gonna have to do their wedding cake?”

 

“If we do, we’re charging them double,” Seungsik adds. The other two laugh, and Sejun retreats to the back to clean up.

 

* * *

 

Soft indie music lilts out of the bluetooth speaker Seungsik brings down from his apartment every day. Seungsik glances at his phone: 6:43 PM. Closing time is seven, and the place is deserted save for an old couple.  _ I hope they leave soon, _ Seungsik muses,  _ aren’t most elderly people in bed by now? _

 

“Hey, boss,” Byungchan pokes his head out from the kitchen.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Dishes are done. I mean- except whatever they’re using,” He points to the old couple sharing a slice of tiramisu and a couple of cups of tea.

 

“Awesome, thank you for today, Byungchan.”

 

“I’m just doing my job. The one you hired me for. And pay me for.”

 

“Yeah, but- you do it well. Competently… You haven’t broken anything yet.”

 

Byungchan grins, ”Wow, you speak so highly of me.”

 

Seungsik snorts, playfully smacking the other on the shoulder, “You know- I just- God, why am I nice to you guys? Why am I nice?”

 

“I dunno. Why are you?”

 

“I need to start-” Seungsik smacks Byungchan more, “-abusing you more.”

 

“No, no! Hey!” Byungchan puts his hands up in a feeble effort to protect himself, “Hey! Ah! I’m gonna report you to HR!”

 

“I am HR!” Seungsik giggles.

 

“I’m gonna tell on you! Nana Kang is gonna be sooo mad!” 

 

“You wouldn’t dare!”

 

“Try me,” Byungchan hovers his hand over his pocket, where he keeps his phone. 

 

“Ugh! You know, I was going to tell you to go home early, but if you’re gonna be like that, you can climb into the ovens and-”

 

“Wait, did I say you were getting reported? I meant nominated! For the best boss ever award!” Byungchan doesn't hesitate to to start untying his apron. “Wait- are you sure. What about those two?”

 

“Don’t worry about them. I got it. Not like I have a long commute home, anyways.”

 

“Are you positive?”

 

“Well, I guess if you do stay I could go out tonight… Hit the clubs, you know.” Seungsik pointedly looks out the wide windows at the near-deserted square outside. The setting sun casts long shadows across the quiet little square. A few cars pass by, and one person walks their dog in the park at the center.

 

“Yeah, it’s, uh, really lit tonight.”

 

“Yup, so, get out of here,” Seungsik elbows Byungchan. 

 

“You serious?”

 

“For real- stop before I change my mind!”

 

“Okay, fine, I’m going,” Byungchan sheds his apron, slinging it over his shoulder, “But…” He glances over to the old couple, “Don’t work too hard, okay? Like- Get some sleep. You gotta be up in eight hours or something, right?”

 

Seungsik shrugs. Sleep and him aren’t necessarily great friends. It’s the life of a baker, something he’s resigned himself to. He’s found that four hours is plenty of sleep. Coffee does a surprisingly decent job at augmenting him in where he’s lacking. It’s fine. Totally fine.

 

“Go,” Seungsik waves Byungchan away, “Go, go, go!” At least one of us can have a good night, he thinks.

 

“Okay, bye! See you tomorrow!” Byungchan trots into the back to grab his stuff before running out with another wave. 

 

“Bye!” Seungsik gives the other a wave, watching him depart.

 

It goes quiet again. Seungsik sighs, leaning on the pastry case. His eyes drift to the couple eating contently in the corner. Their conversation is quiet. It looks nice. 

 

_ Are they… Are they holding hands? _ Seungsik squints. The couple’s got to be at least mid sixties.  _ Shouldn’t they be bickering or something? _ He can’t help but watch them, fixated. The two sit peacefully, hand in hand, happily chatting away. They kind of remind him of his own grandparents. He wonders how the heck two people can find each other and manage to stay together. 

  
First of all, there’s the insane concept of actually finding someone who likes you the way you like them. Like, where are these people? They’re not dropping from the sky. They don’t grow on trees, and they definitely don’t live in small towns or walk into little bakeries. Even if they do admire you, then there’s the question: are they actually a decent person? Seungsik’s read his fair share of horror stories on the internet; he may be just a tad terrified of the human race because of it. Sure, some dude may like him, but what if he’s rude? Ornery, even? What if he’s got a wandering eye or he falls out of love with him?!

 

Then there’s the fact that, somehow, a person is expected to stand the other for, well years. Not hours. Not days or weeks or even months.  _ Years _ . Of what, exactly? Seungsik doesn’t even know. He supposes that kids enter the equation somehow - at least, for straight couples they do. For guys? That’s a slim chance. So people wake up next to their spouse for decades on end. Working. Doing the same crap they did before, but with, like, obligations. And they’re supposed to be happy about it? It just isn’t realistic.

 

But… it doesn’t stop Seungsik from dreaming about it. 

 

He glances at his phone again: 7:12.  _ What?! It’s closing time. _ He glances at the couple again. They’re still there, nestled in the corner, cozy as ever. _ I should say something. I need to prep stuff for tomorrow morning, not to mention cleaning up after them.  _

 

“Gyahahaha!” The old woman laughs loudly - it echoes loudly across the long, empty bakery. She slams her hand on the table, throwing her head back in laughter. Her entire face scrunches with glee. 

 

_ Well… Maybe just a few more minutes, _ Seungsik decides, a tiny smile crossing his lips as he looks on wistfully.

 

* * *

 

Seungwoo scrunches his nose.  _ Is that what crickets sound like? _ He turns the volume of his headphones up, trying to drown them out.  _ Why are they yelling? Why are they so angry?! _ He sighs. His first day in town was absolutely riveting, in his humble opinion. He moved all one bags of his possessions into his temporary digs.  

 

After passing out for four hours and totally messing up his sleep schedule, he played games. Four tragic losses in League later, he sits, dejected in his chair. With orientation the next day, bed seems like a good decision. Except. It’s not even nine o’ clock.

 

“Ugh,” Seungwoo wrings his hands down his face. He looks outside. The village square is dark. The few street lamps that light the way cast long, dark shadows across the street. It looks like a ghost town or something out of a horror film. Seungwoo half expects zombies to start crawling out between the towering trees in the middle.

 

He taps out one, simple message to some of his friends in Seoul:

 

“Save me.”

 

“Boring isn’t that bad… Right?” He says to himself. He eyes the square again. Almost every window has gone dark. Bright neon signs illuminate the little corner occupied by the local tavern. Little cracks of light slip through blinds and curtains in some of the flats above the shops. Aside from that, nothing.

 

“This summer’s gonna be real fun,” Seungwoo groans.

 

He looks at his phone again. No replies. They’re probably finishing up happy hour. Jerks. All out, having fun and stuff.

 

Seungwoo rolls his desk chair across the studio lazily. His chair hits the bedframe with a soft “thud”, and he flops over onto the mattress lazily. Seungwoo’s tired, but he’s not. He finds it hard to explain. He hasn’t done much all day, but he still feels weirdly exhausted. Guess that happens when you pack up what few possessions you have and move hours away from everything you’ve known.

 

Part of him wonders if that’s just some side effect of country air, too. It’s not just him. Everyone is, apparently, tired. At least, that’s what all the blacked out windows indicates to him.  _ How could people be ready to just… Retire by eight thirty at night? How is that in any way, shape, or form normal? _

 

He’s grateful that he at least isn’t one of those tortured types who “can’t stand to be alone with his thoughts”.  One of the shops on the square sells books, and Seungwoo sees himself going through a crap-ton of them. By reflex, he reaches for his phone, opening his browser app. 

 

Click bait. Click bait. Click bait. A thread of cute puppy gifs (he clicks on that)! Click bait. Click bait. Click bait- Horoscope?

 

Seungwoo taps it indulgently. He realizes that it’s just sappy, vague crap spun by some woefully underpaid intern. Seungwoo wishes he could make a living doing something so stupid, but, alas, it’s not his calling. He’s not necessarily the superstitious type, but sometimes it’s like… A fun exercise in self reflection. It’s fun to see how random, incredibly nonspecific philosophical advice can apply to one’s life. The little goat symbol denoting “capricorn” pops up on the screen and he presses it curiously. 

 

“What doth my future hold, oh great, glorious internet psychics?” Seungwoo asks facetiously as he stretches out on the bed. The block of text reads just as dubiously as any other divination:

 

“Hey, Cap. It’s not uncommon for an intuit like you to think you’ve got it all figured out - especially in relationships. Let your walls down, and an unexpected avenue might open for you! We know that with the sun departing into Leo, you’re going to start looking into outward appearances, but remember: it’s what’s in a person’s heart that counts. The astral energies are finicky these days, so you never know, you might find that spark with who you least expect!”

 

Seungwoo snorts.  _ Yeah, okay. I bet I’ll fall head over heels for one of the trees in the park. _


	2. Chapter 2

“Beep! Beep! Beep-”

 

“Urgh,” Seungsik groans, pawing in the general direction of his phone. 

 

“Clunk.”

 

It falls to the ground, causing a loud thud to echo throughout his loft. With a raucous groan, Seungsik sits his body upright. Another day. Another dollar. Another batch of cookies and dozen cupcakes.

 

After half a dozen clumsy attempts at grasping his phone, Seungsik finally gets it. Four in the morning. Bright and sunny four AM. Terrific. Utterly enthralled with the state of his existence, Seungsik flops out of bed to begin the day. He goes through his routine as per usual. Shower, brushed teeth, slapped on skincare… Once he throws on the most okayest outfit he can find while half-asleep, he rushes down the stairs to the bakery. 

 

Electricity buzzes when he flicks on the light switch, and soon it’s back to work.

 

Seungsik zones out. He puts on some music - a chill lofi music with just enough of freshness to wake him up. The whirring of the mixer swirls in with the sound of soft bass; they make a harmonious union as far as Seungsik is concerned. Flour, salt, yeast… The makings of a new dough, a new day. 

 

Like nothing, an hour passes, and Sejun’s knocking on the door to be let in. Seungsik is halfway through mixing cookie dough when he paces over to the door.

 

“Morning,” Sejun yawns, stretching out.

 

“Good morning,” Seungsik hums, trotting back to his cookie dough in the kitchen.

 

“Notice how I say morning and not ‘good’ morning. How are you so chipper at this time of day?”

 

“Why do people just assume I’m, like, happy all the time?”

 

“It’s your resting face. You’re adorable.”

 

“Am NOT!” As if to illustrate Sejun’s point, Seungsik pouts; the sour expression merely elicits a knowing chuckle from the other. 

 

“Wh- Hey, is this your cookie dough?” Sejun asks, pointing to a metal bowl on the counter.

 

Seungsik quirks an eyebrow. He looks down at the bowl in the mixer he’s working with, then at the one on the counter. He looks back at the bowl, then the counter.

 

“Uh…” Pacing over to the bowl on the counter, he gives it a sniff. Unmistakably sweet sugar cookie dough, “Uh…” He looks at Sejun, dismayed, as if the man would have any answers to his dilemma.

 

“You made two batches, didn’t you?” Sejun smirks.

 

Seungsik sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “So it seems…” There are worse things in the world than too many cookies. Still, it’s time and resources wasted. Instead of three dozen, now he’s got the makings of six. He supposes he could save it for later, but he doesn’t like the cookie dough to sit. Pursing his lips, he gazes into the bowl of sugary, buttery goodness like it’s an oracle. “Guess we’ve got some extra!” He shrugs with finality. Some can be free samples, and they can float a few extra to the Healing Center for their daily delivery. It’s hardly a big cost to sink.

 

* * *

 

“Have a good day!” Seungsik gives a glowing smile to the ahjumma who’d graciously taken one of his surplus cookies. Seungsik feels like he lives in the back sometimes, so the fresh air is a nice departure from the overwhelming smell of sweets. Though the morning feels nice in the moment, the baker can tell the day’s going to be a hot one.

 

_ Another day in paradise _ , he thinks. It’s not like there’s anything else to expect. What’s the most exciting thing that can happen there, anyways? 

 

_ Maybe a UFO will land or something. _

 

Sejun pokes his head out of the window, rousing his boss’s attention, “Hey handsome, can I have a cookie?” He opens his mouth wide, wiggling his eyebrows. Rolling his eyes, Seungsik paces over, shoving a cookie in the other’s mouth. Sejun doesn’t hesitate to close his teeth around the buttery disc of goodness.

 

“Theh youh,” He slurs, dipping his head back inside like some benevolent, cookie-eating gopher. 

 

And then things go quiet.

 

Seungsik heaves a sigh. He looks left, then right. The initial morning rush has surpassed, and it’s likely gonna be fairly sporadic until lunch time when people stop by for savories. It’s quiet, but not bad. But. Not exciting either. Just another day in the country, another-

 

_ Who the heck is he?! _

 

As if in slow motion, Seungsik makes out a slender silhouette a short distance away. He’s an unfamiliar face, not something Seungsik sees very often in the little town square. The man is tall and slender. His sweats look unimpressive at a glance, but Seungsik notices an expensive designer label printed on the sides. Even his shirt, while simple, bears a large designer logo. Nobody from town would ever walk around in something so… So lazy yet flashy.

 

_ So, he’s an out of towner. But… What is he doing here? At this time of morning? _

 

The man grows nearer, and Seungsik feels his heartbeat quicken. The guy looks young, around Seungsik’s age, and he’s got an aloof expression. His resting face looks slightly dissatisfied, but there’s something cute about. Like how some cats naturally look grumpy.

 

Seungsik straightens up, anxiously adjusting his hair and shirt. Suddenly he feels terribly underdressed for baking in his t-shirt and jeans. It doesn’t stop him from trying his damndest to look cute. The moment of truth comes all too fast, and Seungsik extends the tray, giving his most dashing smile.

 

“Free sample? They’re fresh from the oven this morning!” He says, hoping to sound charming without laying it on too thick. With laborious effort he manages to keep his eyes squarely on the guy’s face as opposed to the slender sinews of his body.

 

The guy pauses, then he eyes Seungsik up and down. Suddenly, Seungsik’s heart dips. He has a feeling that the guy isn’t exactly checking him out. The other’s gaze feels heavy on the baker, and he prays that the man say something, anything to break the weird silence.

 

“Do I  _ look _ like I eat sweets?” He finally says, his nose scrunched.

 

_ Excuse you?! _

 

Seungsik doesn’t miss a beat, responding, “It’s okay to indulge sometimes! But if you don’t like pastries or breads, that’s alright, too. Have a nice day...” He waits until the man is out of earshot, keeping his illuminating smile as he mutters, “... _ prick _ .”

 

* * *

 

“Good morning,” A chipper woman greets Seungwoo at the Sunrise Healing Center. He’d just changed into scrubs for his first day at the job. Even though he tends to unintentionally exude an air of confidence, he’s actually incredibly nervous. The therapist-in-training wrings his hands awkwardly as he chokes out his greeting.

 

“Good morning!” He eyes the name tag that the woman is wearing, “Miss Eunji. My name is Han Seungwoo and I look forward to learning from you.”

 

“I look forward to learning with you as well,” Eunji says, her smile almost blindingly stunning.  _ How can someone be so happy this early?  _ Seungwoo has to wonder.  _ First the bakery dude then this chick. What’s in the water? _

 

“I will be your mentor for at least the foreseeable future. I’m one of the MPTs here. I’ve been at this facility for a bit over seven years now… Gosh, I feel old,” She chuckles. 

 

_ Seven years? In this place?! How hasn’t she died of boredom? _

 

“Well, you found your way to the locker room easily. That’s a good start,” She continues, sunny as ever. Seungwoo wonders: is this what I’m gonna have to deal with all summer? “Let’s start with an official tour of this facility!” Eunji claps enthusiastically.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Seungwoo nods with a grin, following her. They loop back through the hall they’d met in to the lobby. A large wood reception desk spans the surprisingly modern space. Everything looked clean, but not clinical. Wooden chairs with tweed cushioning and matching sofas span the space, and the morning sunlight floods through the expansive windows. The rugs spread across the tile floor vary while still complementing one another: some are shaggy and soft looking grays while others have mottled looking patterns. Clusters of trees sit in the corners, and almost every flat surface has some kind of succulent or spider plant. It looks nothing like any clinic Seungwoo had ever seen before. He knew that more upscale places liked to give a spa-like vibe, but Sunrise Healing Center almost feels more like someone’s nice house. 

 

“This is the lobby, which I am sure you already saw. Here our lovely receptionists receive guests and check them in- Oh, good morning Chorong!” Eunji waves enthusiastically at one of the women behind the desk. The girl returns the smile in earnest, and Seungwoo seriously considers the possibility that they spike the water in that part of town.

 

“Good morning Miss Eunji!”

 

“How’s the day looking?”

 

“Busy as ever.”

 

“Sounds great! This is Seungwoo, one of our residents for the summer,” Eunji gestures to the young man next to her enthusiastically. Seungwoo’s eyes widen in surprise, and he bows awkwardly to greet the other. He’d strode straight past her when he’d walked in to get dressed earlier. He hadn’t even asked her directions to the dressing room.

 

“Good morning, Seungwoo. My name is Chorong, I’m one of the assistants here,” She smiles ear to ear and bows. “It’s nice to meet you!”

 

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” Seungwoo returns the greeting. Thankfully Eunji doesn’t waste any more time on smalltalk and quickly ushers the resident away. She leads Seungwoo through one of the doors leading to the back area. That’s where the real operation is.

 

Seungwoo follows with wide eyes, drinking in the sight of the esteemed Sunrise Healing Center. He quickly understands where it gets its prestige as Eunji rattles off facts and tips for navigating the massive place.

 

Sunrise Healing Center was founded by a man named Choi Jinho a few decades prior. It’d gone through a few name changes, but the values of the clinic had always been the same. Windows line the hallway opposite the doors leading to examination rooms; they stretch from floor to ceiling. Once again, sunlight fills the space. The fluorescent lights are hardly necessary. Seungwoo finds himself a tad distracted, looking at the beautifully tended courtyard out the windows as opposed to the things in front of him. The porcelain tile is a warm, tan color, and it reflects everything above and around it like a mirror. Every few meters there’s some sort of little tree or plant. The art hung on the walls looks equally as organic; it’s the type of stuff that makes Seungwoo inclined to stop and scratch his head. Luckily, he can’t.

  
He manages to tear his attention away from the pretty space and pay attention to Eunji again. She gestures to a set of double doors in front of him, continuing the tour with her easy, amicable air.

 

“And through this door, we have our main indoor gym,” Eunji leads Seungwoo through a set of heavy looking double doors. Seungwoo has to squint upon passing the threshold. Light. Light. Light. He’s almost tired of sunlight. The place has so many windows, he wonders if it’s legal. 

 

The gym itself is well equipped; there are benches, yoga balls, medicine balls, machines for every exercise imaginable, treadmills, ellipticals, stair steps, platforms, walking rails… Any possible physical ailment or need that a person could dream of could be addressed. The space itself is vast. Multiple patients could be cared for and not even notice that there are other people present. Of course, like every other spot he’d visited (save for the exam rooms), just beyond the windows is green, green, and more green. It looks to be an extension of the yard. However, in the distance he can make out the silhouettes of more equipment and even another building. Eunji had said “indoor gym” - did that mean there were outdoor facilities, too?

 

“Wow,” Seungwoo can’t help the utterance.

  
Eunji beams, looking at the gym proudly, “Fantastic, isn’t it?” She sighs, “Makes me proud to be a part of such a beautiful operation.” She doesn’t stand still for long, though, and quickly she starts striding off in another direction. Seungwoo, still half dazed, scrambles to follow her surprisingly fast footsteps.

 

“Now, as I said this is our main indoor facility,” She exits through another set of doors on the opposite side of the gym and Seungwoo follows. “However, if you go this way-” They end up in another hallway, one that looks similar to the last, “-out these doors, this will lead you to our outdoor facilities.” 

  
Seungwoo’s eyes widen. The two exit through another door in the hallway, and suddenly they’re outside again. The resident takes a deep breath. Fragrances of freshly cut grass and damp earth fill his nose. The two follow a sidewalk and soon find themselves at an outdoor gym. The equipment is more basic, but Seungwoo can certainly see why a patient would like to be outside. A gentle breeze runs across the yard, and the whole campus is surrounded by massive oak and maple trees. It’s a nice break from the tedium of your typical gym. Thinking about it more, Seungwoo sort of doubts that the town even has more than two gyms.

 

Eunji starts speaking again, “As you can see, nature is an integral part of our healing process. The founder thought it was important to incorporate the natural beauty of the Earth into the design of the Healing Center.”

 

“I can tell,” Seungwoo remarks, wide eyes taking in the vast yard.

 

“It may seem simple, but we’ve found that our results are borderline miraculous. Humans crave a bit of nature, even if they don’t know it. It soothes the soul,” Eunji turns to glance at Seungwoo. Though her lips still turn up into a smile, her face falls into a slightly more serious expression. “A healthy soul is essentially to a healthy body. That’s what we stand for here at Sunrise Healing Center. Yes, we do our jobs well. Our patients supplement their therapy with medication often and we have state of the art facilities, but-” She points to her heart, “The true healing happens here. Understand?”

 

Seungwoo’s a bit taken aback by the sudden question. 

  
_ How the heck am I supposed to answer that?! Healthy soul? Healing happening in- in what, the heart? Sounds like a bunch of hippie crap to me.  _ He tries not to frown though his face feels inclined to do so. Instead, he nods.

 

“Yes ma’am,” He answers. It’s not as if he plans on having bad bedside manner per se. He just hopes he’s not preached to every day about drippy, sentimental crap. He knows better than anyone that mind over matter is everything when it comes to physical fitness; but, that doesn’t mean that holding hands and singing kumbaya ever cured anyone’s bad hip.

 

_ Whatever. At least the place is gorgeous. I can definitely make my friends jealous about that. _

 

Eunji accepts the curt answer, continuing her tour,“So, this building at the back of the yard is our Aquatics center…”

 

* * *

 

Hanse and Chan peek ever so slightly through the door to the kitchen in the back. 

 

“SLAP.” “BAM.” “SLAP. SLAP!”

 

“You talk to him,” Chan whispers to Hanse.

 

“Wh- No, you talk to him,” Hanse retorts.

 

“SLAP! BAM!! BAM!!”

 

“Me?! You’re the one who works here,” Chan elbows Hanse in the ribs.

 

“Ugh- Exactly. If I make him mad there are consequences. If you upsets him he’ll be nice because you don’t work here.”

 

Chan purses his lips in thought, “But-” “SLAP! BAM! BAM!” “-do you see that bread dough he’s been slapping around the past fifteen minutes?!” “BAM! BAM! BAM!” 

 

“That could be us…”

 

“Exactly! Oh God… At this rate he’ll overwork the dough and the bread will come out all wrong,” Hanse bites his knuckles nervously.

 

“You know you two aren’t actually whispering?” Sejun’s looming figure startles the other two, making them nearly leap halfway across the bakery.

 

“Sejun!” Hanse exclaims, “You can’t just sneak up on us like that! I have a fragile constitution.”

 

“The only thing fragile about you is the thread with which your remaining brain cells are holding onto for dear, dear life.”

 

“BAM!!”

 

“Oh dear,” Sejun glances through the door. He pulls a vaguely irked expression, brows furrowing and lips pulling back into a dismayed frown.

 

“What is going on with him?!” Chan asks, still committed to whisper-yelling even though that ship had long since sailed.

 

“Well…” Sejun sighs, “This morning we had a customer.”

 

“We have lots of customers in the morning,” Hanse comments.

 

“Not a customer. A  _ customer _ .”

 

“Oh,” Realization dawns on Hanse’s face. “Oh.”

 

“Was it some ahjumma mad at the pricing or something? Or- or a middle aged mom carting obnoxious kids holding up the line?” Chan asks.

 

Sejun shakes his head, “No and no. Actually he was… Well, he was apparently a guy. I dunno, I was inside at the time, but Seungsik told me what happened. He made too many cookies so decided to give some away as samples this morning.”

 

“And I missed it?!” Chan cries.

 

“... _ Anyways _ , apparently the dude was a real prick. When offered a free cookie, you know what he said?”

 

“No.” “What did he say?” Chan and Hanse mutter at the same time.

 

“He said, at least, according to Seungsik: ‘do I  _ look  _ like I eat sweets?’ - end quote. Then he just walked off without another word. No thank you or anything!”

 

“What?!” “You can’t be serious!”

 

“Do you think I - or Seungsik - would make this up?”

 

Hanse straightens up a bit, stretching, “What’d he look like? I’ll find him and show him how what happens to people who give my bro crap!”

 

“Yeah,” Chan mimics the other’s vaguely threatening physical stance.

 

“I’ll wring him by his probably skeletally skinny neck-”

 

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Chan nods in support.

 

“-and wring it! Then I’ll grab him-”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“-And shove an entire batch of cookies down his ungrateful throat!”

 

“ _ Yeah _ !”

 

“Okay, first of all,” Sejun looks at Chan, “You don’t even work here. Why are you here? Second of all, no, Hanse. While the sentiment is appreciated, you know how Seungsik is. Everything’s water under the bridge for him. He’ll probably forget about it tomorrow.” The baker glances at his friend with a frown.

 

“That’s- ugh! That’s not fair!” Hanse throws his hands up, glancing momentarily at Seungsik, too. “Why-” He lowers his voice, “Why is he so nice?!”

 

“Well, for one, you can’t run a business by being rude,” Sejun points out.

 

Hanse rolls his eyes, “I know, but-”

 

“And anyways he’s… Seungsik’s kindness is what makes him  _ him _ . He’s like a ray of blinding sunshine, and that’s why we love him.”

 

“Well maybe he should act like real sunshine and burn people sometimes,” Hanse huffs, crossing his arms.

 

Sejun tries to be the reasonable one in the situation, but he can’t help laughing.

 

“SLAP!! BAM!!”

 

“He’ll be alright,” Sejun says when he manages to compose himself, “You know what I think will really help him, though?”

 

“What?” Hanse asks. Chan looks on intently.

 

“I think it would really help if… You did your job!” Sejun emphasizes the point by bopping Hanse on the head, “And you should probably get going before our after school rush!”

 

Chan raises a finger in protest,“But it’s summer-”

 

“Ah- ah- ah! No buts! You know there are plenty of kids doing cram school on summer break anyways. Hurry up before-”

 

“Ding! Ding!” The familiar chime of the door’s bell rings out as if to taunt Sejun. The trio out front immediately scramble to fall into line. Unsurprisingly, Sejun is the first to fall into line. He straightens up and delivers a courteous bow.

 

“Good afternoon, welcome to Newvoice Bakery!” He greets the young man who’d just entered chipperly.

 

The boy doesn’t reply. He merely takes a seat, looking at Sejun expectantly. Hanse elbows Chan, prompting the other to pay close attention to the customer.

 

“Your usual?” Sejun asks. The boy nods. The older one heads behind the pastry case to grab the order. Chan and Hanse follow him, ducking beneath the counter and out of view.

 

“Whoa, you were right, he really doesn’t say anything,” Chan whispers to Hanse when they’re out of sight (well, out of the customer’s sight, at least).

 

“Yeah. He does this every day. Same time  _ on the dot _ ,” Hanse tells the other.

 

“So that’s really him? The Jung Subin? Like from that Jung family?”

 

“Yup, the Jung family. The filthy rich ones with the massive mansion.”

 

“Whoa,” Chan’s jaw drops in awe. “What’s he doing here? Shouldn’t he be riding camels in Dubai or something? Wining and dining in the city?”

 

“I know, right? And he never, ever talks. Ever. Apparently he’s been coming in daily since elementary school.”

 

“Jeez. Is he their only child?”

 

“No, I heard he has three older sisters.”

 

“Oh. Are they hot?”

 

Hanse punches Chan in the shoulder for that. Just as he’s about to fire back with a snarky comment, they both feel a heavy hand on their shoulders. They freeze up, each turning in slow motion. Sejun’s looming form looks down at them. His mouth says “smile”, but his eyes say “doom”. He leans down slowly, whispering.

 

“If you would be _ so kind _ , please stop talking about our customers when they are just meters away,” He gives their shoulders an extra hard squeeze.

 

Suddenly, the angry baker himself emerges from the kitchen. Seungsik quirks an eyebrow at the three hunching down behind the counter. Stricken with the fear of God, the three stand up straight. Wordlessly, Sejun dashes across the back to gather Subin’s order. Hanse and Chan exchange sheepish expressions. Seungsik knows something is up, but can’t put a finger on it. He doesn’t care enough to investigate and merely sighs in resignation.

 

“The dough’s rising right now. I’m gonna take a quick break, okay?” Seungsik poses his words as a question, but it’s not as if anyone has the authority to say no. Hanse and Chan nod affirmatively. Seungsik heads toward the door, giving Subin a sideward glance, “Good afternoon Subin.”

 

The customer merely nods, giving a barely-there smile in response.

 

“Ding. Ding.” The bell rings, and Seungsik is gone. Hanse and Chan heave a joint sigh of relief.

 

Hanse leans on the counter, watching the retreating form of his boss through the window, “We should do something fun for him. Something to cheer him up,” He says.

 

“Like what, though? Not like there’s much to do around here.”

 

“I dunno, I just… I feel like he deserves something, you know? He seems like he’s been a little down lately.”

 

“Down? I- I haven’t really noticed.”

 

“Well, you haven’t known him as long as I have,” Hanse shrugs. “It’s not so much that he’s down, but… Maybe it’s like he’s in a rut. He could use a little something to shake things up or he’ll die of boredom.”

 

“I guess he is a creature of habit,” Chan concedes. He whips out his phone, and his eyes widen upon seeing the time, “Crap! I gotta get back to the restaurant. See you around?”

 

“Always! Byungchan should be in soon, actually… See ya!”

 

“Bye!” Chan departs with a quick wave and a grin. Hanse waves after him, and from the corner from his eye, he swears he sees that Subin kid watch the other leave.

 

* * *

 

Seungsik enters the bakery through the back door, carting overfilled grocery bags. They rustle loudly as he lugs them through the bakery, making a mad dash toward the kitchen. A few customers sit, casually sipping tea over pastries, but per usual most people are in and out. Byungchan raises his eyebrows at the sight of his boss playing pack mule. He shakes his head.

 

Ducking into the kitchen, Byungchan asks flatly, “What’ve you got this time?”

 

“Wh- Oh, this? It’s nothing,” Seungsik huffs and puffs as he drops the bags onto the metal counter in the back.

 

“Mhm. Nothing? Is nothing shaped like… Are those avocados?”

 

“Wh- M-maybe- I mean, yeah,” Seungsik replies. “Yeah they are um… Avocados.”

 

“May I ask why a bakery has avocados? Don’t tell me we’re gonna start serving tacos,” Byungchan crosses his arms, his face transparently judgemental. This wouldn’t be the first time Seungsik had come into the bakery with an arm full of impulsively bought groceries.

 

Seungsik had the tendency to occasionally go bake-crazy (at least, that’s the term Byungchan had coined a bit less than a year prior). Sometimes, it’d be truly impulsive. He’d just walk into the grocery store and disassociate, coming out with random ingredients. Other times, he’d see something pretty online and think he could do it better. Whatever his reasoning, the result was often the same. Seungsik, full of enthusiasm and adventurous spirit, would gather his haphazard collection of ingredients. He would then spend the entire night attempting to either formulate a new recipe or master a needlessly complex one.

 

His success rate of his little baking escapade was, unsurprisingly, low. Sejun had once found Seungsik with his face buried in flour in the morning. When the baker had finally come to, he’d looked like a ghost. Or someone who’d gotten into to an insane amount of drugs.

 

“No, we are  _ not  _ serving tacos. I am making puddings!” Seungsik makes the declaration triumphantly, as if it completely explains his manic grocery acquisitions.

 

“Puddings with avocado?” Byungchan makes no effort to cover his skepticism.

 

“Yes. Puddings with avocado. And bananas. Almond butter, almond milk, agave, some cocoa and…”

 

“May I ask why you are making pudding with- with not milk and sugar and, I dunno… Pudding stuff?”

 

“I will have you know I am trying to make a- a healthy alternative,” Seungsik says, unloading the bags and sorting his purchases.

 

“A  _ what _ ?”

 

“Yeah, I said it.”

 

“You did not just use the h-word!” Byungchan feigns a scandalized gasp.

 

“Shh!” Seungsik giggles, holding a finger to his lips, “Not so loud! You’ll upset the children.”

 

Byungchan chuckles, rolling his eyes, “Okay, but, really? Healthy? Seungsik this is a bakery. If someone wants something healthy they’ll- I dunno, they’ll eat a leaf or something.” Byungchan’s joke makes a genuine smile cross the baker’s face, and for that he’s glad. He hadn’t seen lots of those as of late; it’s nice to see his friend laughing for real.

 

“I know, I know… Newvoice isn’t exactly synonymous with healthy, but,” Seungsik shrugs, “It’s always good to push yourself and expand your horizons, right? Anyways, different people have different needs and desires. I know we can’t appeal to everyone on this earth, but why not try expanding a bit? Who knows, seeing a healthy, vegan alternative to a typical pudding may make someone’s day! People have dietary restrictions too…”

 

“Okay, okay I get it. You sap. Look at you, saving the world one pudding at a time.”

 

“Ha ha, very funny.” 

 

“Look, just try and get some sleep tonight, okay?”

 

“Don’t worry, I have to wait for the puddings to set anyways,” Seungsik tries to soothe Byungchan’s worries.

 

“Okay, but if Sejun finds you drowning in a bowl of pudding I’m holding an intervention!” 

 

“That happened one time-”

 

“Twice.”

 

“Two times!”

 

Byungchan shakes his head before going back out onto the floor.

 

* * *

 

Seungwoo heaves a hefty sigh, sliding down in his desk chair. Another game of League bites the dust. He’d felt confident in his own play, but his team had, apparently, decided playing with their feet was more fun than their hands. The therapist-in-training eyes the clock on his PC’s screen. It’s just past eight o’ clock. Lazily, he tiptoes to roll his chair across the floor to the window.

 

_ Yikes. Nighttime here is scary _ , he thinks. The town square is, once again, dark. There are a few street lights, but that’s about it. No people. No cars. No bustling nightlife or laughter. The closest to “bustling” he can see is the neon signs in the window of the bar across the square. A few other flats and one or two shops have their lights on. 

 

_ Man, the people here really like to go crazy. _ Seungwoo sighs again. He wonders how many of those he’s gonna rack up over the duration of the summer. _ It’s just a semester’s worth of time _ , he tells himself. _ Still, if day two is this painful, I might seriously need to consider some new hobbies. _

 

He’d gotten back to the flat between five and six. He worked out, then ventured out into the square to explore a bit. Not much really caught his interest, but he did pick up a decent meal from a convenience store on the corner. He ate and started gaming.

 

“What to do, what to do…” Seungwoo mutters to himself. He’s tempted to work out again, but he doesn’t want to over exert himself. Luckily, a small spark ignites in his brain at that moment. “This place is definitely safe… I can go for a run,” He tells himself.

 

Jumping out of his rolly chair triumphantly, Seungwoo shucks his shirt. He crosses to his small set of drawers and grabs a pair of shorts. His eyes scan his haphazardly folded tees for a second.

 

“Meh, it’s humid out anyways. No need to bother,” He shrugs. “Okay, phone… Ear buds, keys…” When his mental checklist is complete, Seungwoo heads to the door. He leaves the apartment and descends the fire escape swiftly. A nice late night run ought to make him tired enough to sleep well, and for that he feels grateful.

 

_ At least the lack of stuff to do means I can focus on my health even more. _ He tells himself, hoping he can truly commit to appreciating the newly found silver lining.

 

* * *

 

“--oh my God I want to die,” Sejun’s voice echoes loudly in the bakery kitchen. Soft crackles and static can be heard in the gaps between his words. 

 

“Oh no. Didn’t work?” Seungsik says loudly, hoping his phone - which is on speaker - can pick it up.

 

“Nope,” Sejun groans, “Seungsik, never do programming. Ever.”

 

Seungsik chuckles; in the meanwhile, his hands are busy furiously whisking the concoction he’d formulated earlier that day, “Wasn’t planning on it.” He replies. “But what does helping out your mom have to do with programming?”

 

“Everything! It has everything to do with it! Your family learns that you work on a computer and suddenly you’re in-house tech support!” Seungsik can hear Sejun bang his head against his desk. 

 

“Careful, Mr. Robot. You wouldn’t wanna destroy your last remaining brain cells, would you?”

 

“Shut up,” Sejun whines into the receiver. Seungsik laughs. “Oh- Seriously, shut up! You’re the one who called  _ me _ , remember? How’s it going on your end anyways?” His tone perks up, “Will I have delectable treats to sample tomorrow morning?”

 

“Well…” Seungsik glances across the metal counter at the pile of dirty bowls. Felled soldiers. Looking down at himself, the blood of the fallen is splattered across his apron in shades of green and brown. He considers them necessary casualties. Those batches sacrificed themselves for the greatest of goods: tasty food. “It could be going better.”

 

“What’s the matter with them? I thought you were getting closer.”

 

“Hmm. Well, I was, then… I wasn’t. Adding vanilla extract didn’t really do much at all. It was kind of a bad idea.”

 

“Hm. Well what about the coffee batch?”

 

“Also a bad idea. It was too runny! And the alternative is that gritty texture. Unless… Unless I pulverize the beans to the point that it’s a fine powder…” Cogs immediately begin turning in the baker’s head and he starts stroking his chin.

 

“But is that worth the effort?” Sejun rudely interrupts Seungsik’s oncoming genius moment, “I mean, do you need to deepen the chocolate flavor that much? The cocoa should probably be enough.”

 

“I guess,” Seungsik replies, deflated. He looks down at the pudding mixture he’d thrown together. “I just feel like… It’s so simple. I want this to really wow, you know?”

 

“What’s wrong with simple? Simple baking is what you excel at. Leave the fussy stuff to me, you know I love it,” Sejun chuckles on the other end of the line.

 

“You make me sound so bland,” Seungsik pouts. As much as he resents Sejun’s words, they are true. The two are basically opposites. Seungsik favors simple classics executed flawlessly. His idea of the perfect baked good is a pristine, fresh from the oven baguette with just a  _ kiss  _ of butter. On the contrary: Sejun likes layers of cream and sponge, finicky little chocolate touches and sugar decorations. Sometimes Seungsik thinks he likes looking at pastries more than eating them. Luckily, his food tastes pretty damn good, so Seungsik can hardly complain. Regardless, Seungsik isn’t particularly fond of being associated with words like “simple” or “basic”. Nobody pays attention those things.

 

“I am not calling you bland!” Sejun contests, “I’m just saying, don’t overcomplicate things for the sake of adding ‘depth’. Meaningless, injected depth just muddles the true flavors of something that could be truly memorable. You’re amazing at what you do, I’m sure you’ll wow anyone with your creation.”

 

“Okay, okay… I think I’ll just… Strip the recipe down a bit for this batch. Plus if I want to add depth I can serve it with something. Maybe a little crumble to go on top or some fruits…”

 

“That’s the spirit! I can’t wait to try it now,” Sejun makes gross slurping noises, making Seungsik’s nose scrunch.

 

“Hmm… Do you think you could whip up some praline for me tomorrow morning? If we’ve got time. I’m thinking it could make a really decadent topper for these puddings.”

 

“Damn! You really are out to impress. Yeah I probably could, but… Hey. Level with me for a second.”

 

Seungsik gives his phone a confused look, as if Sejun can read his face through the microphone. It occurs to him that they could do a video call, and he makes a note to do that next time.

 

“What’s up?” Seungsik asks, curious.

 

Sejun’s tone turns more serious, “This isn’t about what happened this morning, is it?”

 

“Huh? Wh-what?!” Seungsik feels like he’s about to jump out of his own skin. His heart jumps into his throat at the sudden (definitely not correct) accusation. 

 

“You know, that guy that-”

 

“Y-yeah, I know what you mean. I just- What are you talking about?”

 

“Byungchan told me you were rambling about ‘healthy options’ or something this evening.”

 

“Byungchan- he what?!”  _ That traitor!  _ “Is there a problem with that?” Sejun sighs again; Seungsik can visualize his frown, just like he’s right there.

 

“No! Not at all! I actually think it’s a really clever thing to do, but…”

 

“But what?”

 

“Look, you don’t need to prove anything to some random jerk you’ve never met before, okay? You’re an amazing baker, business person, and human being. Don’t let one person’s crappy attitude make you question that.”

 

Seungsik’s hands stop moving, and he frowns. Slowly, he sets the bowl and whisk down.  _ That’s easy for you to say _ , he thinks. _ You have a life outside of this. You don’t have everyone depending on you.  _

 

“Thanks for the pep talk,” The baker forces out a laugh. “Okay and now to add the… Oh crap.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I’m totally out of bananas!” Seungsik gasps, throwing his hands up. Frantically, he tosses and turns every stray bowl, whisk, and measuring implement within reach. Loud clatters echo across the empty kitchen, no doubt deafening poor Sejun on the other side of the line. “My bananas!”

 

“Oh  _ no _ , not the  _ bananas _ !” Sejun calls out facetiously.

 

“Don’t you dare mock my distress!” Seungsik yells across the room. He huffs, throwing his head in his hands, “This was supposed to be the batch that’s perfect! Ugh.”

 

“It’s just after eight. If you leave now, you can get to the grocery store before it closes,” Sejun remarks.

 

Seungsik immediately perks up, rushing to his phone, “You’re so right! Oh my god! Life saver! Life saver!” In a storm of flailing limbs and indiscernible chatter, Seungsik rushes around the kitchen. He clumsily packs up loose ingredients and throws cling wrap over his mixture before throwing it into the fridge. Phone in hand, he doesn’t even bother shedding his dirty apron as he rushes toward the door. 

 

He takes Sejun off of speaker, pressing his phone to his ear, “Thank you, you are a genius!”

 

“I know, but it’s nice to hear,” Sejun laughs.

 

“I’m just gonna run out the front. It’s faster and…” Suddenly, Seungsik’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. He rubs his eyes to make sure they’re seeing things properly. Shockingly, he is. There’s someone in the square. Jogging. It absolutely baffles him.

 

Who the heck is running at this time of night?!

 

The mysterious person gradually comes closer - they’d probably decided to do a few laps around the square. The person goes at a steady, quick pace. Nothing shocking, but fast enough that an onlooker can tell they jog often. The figure is almost impossibly slender, and their shadowy silhouette practically disappears.

 

“And… And what? And what, Seungsik?”

 

“S-sorry,” Seungsik murmurs. “There’s, uh, there’s someone jogging in the square.”

 

“There’s- I’m sorry, what?” Sejun laughs in disbelief, “There’s somebody jogging?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“At this time of night?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“In the town square?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Are you sure it’s not an alien? Or a monster? A baking-induced hallucination?”

 

“Nope. They are definitely- oh they’re coming closer. It’s a guy and… Oh… Oh my word.”

 

“What is it…? Seungsik? Seungsik what is it?”

 

The person is still a bit far for their face to be visible, but Seungsik isn’t looking anyways. His eyes are drawn to - no, not drawn to, glued to - their torso. Seungsik’s jaw drops as he witnesses the godly apparition descending unto his unworthy eyes. A sheen of sweat substitutes a shirt, leaving absolutely no necessity for imagination. There’s not an ounce of body fat in sight, the person is pure muscle; from their gorgeously defined collar bone to the muscular pecs beneath. Even more impressive is the set of flawless abs beneath them. Two perfect columns of pure muscle sit side by side. His arms are no joke either, moving in rhythm with his muscular legs.

 

“He’s, uh,”  _ Beautiful. Gorgeous. Flawless. A God among men. My new boyfriend. _ “He’s really fit, this dude.”

 

“Fit? Is he… Cute?” Sejun’s tone turns downright impish; if he wasn’t so distracted, Seungsik would definitely despise the teasing he was getting.

 

“Well, I can’t see his face, but honestly I don’t know if I need to.”

 

“Damn. Body  _ that  _ good?”

 

“It’s like he’s photoshopped- but in real life.”

 

“Describe him.”

 

“I could grate cheese off of his abs.”

 

“Dang. Nice.”

 

“And his pecs are like- like muscley pillows.”

 

“Oh damn. He sounds like a snack.”

 

“More like a meal.”

 

“Three course or five course?”

 

“Seven course. With dessert.”

 

“Damn! Oh my God- Dude, you have to go talk to him.”

 

“I- What?! I- I can’t I’m covered flour and sugar and probably wreak of-”

 

“Of what? Baked goods? Oh, no, the horror! How terrible it must be to smell like baked goods!”

 

“Shut up. Come on. How the heck am I supposed to start a conversation with a stranger who’s jogging? They’re obviously busy and do not want to chat.”

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

“Mhm, sure. I bet they would love for me to go up to them and say: ‘Hey saw you shirtless and thought I’d stop drooling over your abs for a few minutes to say hi’.”

 

“You could just say hello.”

 

“I’ll spare myself the humiliation and do what I always do,” Seungsik nods to himself (and to Sejun, in spirit), “I’ll pine from a long distance, never act on it, and die inside thinking about it until eventually I forget it ever happened.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds like a great plan,” Sejun replies sarcastically, “Totally healthy and not pathetic at all.”

 

“Don’t be rude!” Seungsik scolds the other. He glances back out the windows of the storefront and his heart nearly stops. The mystery runner is closer. Way closer. “Oh God, oh God he’s coming, he’s close what do I do- what do I do!?”

 

“Wh- How am I supposed to know? Weren’t you going to the grocery store? Just- Just go. And maybe you will happen to stumble into this mysterious man on your way out.”

 

“He’s almost here, oh God, should I really do it? Or- or should I wait-”

 

“Just go out there and smile at him. Your smile is, like, totally undeniable.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Seungsik turns toward the door with newfound determination. His hand is on the lock, and just as he lifts his key, he looks up. Finally, the runner is in the light. He can see everything perfectly: his flawlessly sculpted abs, his strong, muscular legs, even his face. “Okay I’m gonna talk to- talk to…”

 

Seungsik’s hand drops from the doorknob, and his phone nearly drops, too.

 

“You’re gonna talk to him?” Sejun sounds excited, “H...Hello? Seungsik? Oh- Maybe he’s talking to him…” He rambles.

 

Him.

 

Him.

 

It’s  _ him _ .

 

The fluttering butterflies in Seungsik’s chest morph into angry wasps. Gall stings his insides, making his blood boil. He clenches his fist angrily and bites down on his lip to curb the boiling rage. For an instant, Seungsik has half the mind to charge out there and give the man a piece of his mind. He imagines laying into him, telling him just where he can shove whatever god forsaken protein powder he drinks. No amount of beauty can compensate for such ugliness, and Seungsik wants that man to now that. Sure, people may flock to someone like that now. The guy is fit and handsome. Give it a few years, though. When his looks fade, so will those around him. Then, then he will know. As much as Seungsik wants to tell the mysterious skinny man all of his dark thoughts, he doesn’t. Instead he does the dignified thing.

 

Seungsik, in a panic, jumps across the bakery, hiding beneath the nearest table he can find. While he’d love to be some alpha, in reality, he doesn’t like confrontation. Even seeing the guy fills him with dread, and he sure as heck isn’t ready to look him in the face again. In the instance of fight or flight, Seungsik had chosen flight. It’d worked for him so far in life, and this had been no exception.

 

“Seungsik? Hello?” Sejun’s voice scares Seungsik. He’d forgotten he still had the other on the phone. “Loverboy?” Sejun asks.

 

“S-sorry,” Seungsik says when he collects his wits, “Sorry. I, um, that guy was just running really fast. Oh well. It- it wasn’t meant to be anyways. He’s probably some fitness nut.”

 

“Aw,” The disappointment in the other’s voice is apparent, “Well, keep an eye out. Maybe he’ll come back sometime soon. Who knows, this could be part of mystery man’s new routine.”

 

_ I really hope not _ . “Ha. Yeah, who knows. Wellp, I’m gonna run to the grocery store, alright?”

 

“Kay-kay!” Sejun singsongs. “See you tomorrow morning.”

 

“Goodnight!”

 

The line goes silent.

 

Seungsik purses his lips in displeasure.

 

Ugh. I really am lame.

 

He groans. Lame or not, he’d committed to perfecting his pudding recipe. He puts on a brave, neutral face. Much to his relief, the jogging man is gone. Seungsik makes no effort to look for him. Keeping his head down, he takes up a brisk walking pace to make it to the store on time.

 

* * *

 

Seungwoo gradually slows his jog to a trot until he finally transitions into a walk. He hadn’t really bothered tracking his jog, but he’d been at it for about half an hour. He imagines that’s somewhere around five kilometers. Good enough. 

 

Taking deep breaths, the student finds the nearest bench along the square and plops down on it. Crickets and cicadas sing loudly into the night. A few moths flutter toward the street lamps. Aside from them, nothing else really stirs. For the first time, Seungwoo is just fine with that.

 

After running, it’s nice to let the world slow down. Seungwoo takes it in: the smell of damp earth, the chirping of the crickets and droning of cicadas, the soft light exuded by the street lamps. He looks across the square, a series of shaded storefronts - save for the bar and one other shop.

 

_ Is that… That bakery I passed? _ Seungwoo sits up, narrowing his eyes. He can just barely see the lettering that reads: Newvoice Bakery. _ Why would the bakery’s lights be on this late? Nothing else is open. _

 

_ Weird _ . 

 

With that, the tangent of self-reflection ends. Seungwoo stands up, deciding to head back to his flat. He finally feels like he can go to sleep. And so, upon returning,  he does just that.


	3. Chapter 3

“Crap,” Seungsik mutters before yawning. He sprints down the stairs of his flat, practically face-planting at the bottom after stumbling. “Crap, crap, crap!”

 

His phone most definitely reads “6:01” - as in, over an hour after he should be in the bakery. Woops.

 

Seungsik dashes through the dining room, flicking light switches on his way. A very unamused baker stands on the other side of the glass-paned door, tapping his toe impatiently. Double woops.

 

“Sorry!” Seungsik yells his apology without intending to. The entirely too sleepy Sejun winces from hearing such a loud noise so early in the morning. Seungsik throws the door open, apologizing again (though more quietly this time), “Sorry, sorry.”

 

“Morning,” Sejun says, walking past his boss toward the kitchen. “I’m guessing coffee’s not on, huh.”

 

“U-uh, no,” Seungsik locks the door before tailing the other attentively. “But I can make it right, um, now.” When he lunges toward the coffee maker in the back, a loud “clang” rings out across the space. Sejun flinches again. 

 

“My ears…” He whines. 

 

“Sorry!” Seungsik apologizes again.

 

“What’s going on with you this morning?” Sejun asks, his voice echoing out from the back room. “Did you forget to set an alarm.”

 

“My alarm did go off this morning,” Seungsik said, scrambling to collect his scattered brain. “It just- I guess I pressed snooze or slept through it or something- where is the sourdough...”

 

“You weren’t up until the wee hours of the morning experimenting, were you?” Sejun’s tone implies that he knows it’s exactly what Seungsik was doing. 

 

“Uh,  _ no _ .”

 

“So Byungchan just texted me ‘he sent me a filtered snap of failed attempts’ for funsies?” Sejun emerges from the back room, tying his apron. His smirk says “checkmate”, and the other baker knows he’s lost. If it’s his word against Byungchan’s in this case he’s doomed.

 

_ Damn thee, Byungchan, _ Seungsik thinks.

 

“Let’s say that…  _ Hypothetically _ , I did ‘experiment late’ last night,” He replies sheepishly, emphatically using air quotes. He tries to distract the other by making a show of starting the coffee. Pressing a button on the coffee maker, Seungsik gestures grandly at the thing as if to say “hey, look at me, being a good, reasonable boss”. 

 

“Well, pretending that you did - hypothetically - bake yourself to exhaustion last night… I would - hypothetically - tell you to stop doing stuff like that!” Sejun crosses his arms and quirks an eyebrow.

 

“Oh, come on!” Seungsik groans, quickly adding, “Hypothetically, I mean.”

  
Sejun just sighs, wringing a hand through his hair, “Look, Seungsik, I know this sounds dramatic, but at this rate you’re gonna kill yourself-”

 

“You’re right, that does sound dramatic.”

 

“Seungsik!”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“ _ My point is _ : you need to slow down. Stop taking on so much and- and staying up until midnight or one in the morning when you know you need to be up at four! You’re here open to close, you work out, play games, manage to have a somewhat social life, and you always take on extra work. Even on the days your parents watch the place, half the time you come in to help anyways!”

 

“It’s a family business.”

 

“And your family doesn’t need you to pass out in the middle of a shift because you’d rather play with avocados than sleep!”

 

Seungsik pouts his lips, “But I like avocados-”

 

“Everyonelikesavocadosit’saveryhotculinarytrend!” Sejun cuts him off annoyedly. Cooling off a bit, he tries rewording his response, “Sorry, I just… Dude, I worry about you, okay?”

 

“You act like I’m going to just drop dead one day in the middle of decorating a cake. I will have you know that I was doing something of value, okay! Value!” Seungsik raises a finger triumphantly.

 

“Value?”

 

“Yes! Like I said, I wanna experiment with baking for different customers! Hence, my healthy puddi-” A sudden realization dawns over Seungsik’s face, and he completely drops his thought mid-sentence. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Seungsik strides over to the walk in fridge, muttering to himself.

  
Sejun’s face wrinkles with terror. He watches on in befuddlement, wondering if this is the day that Seungsik finally snaps.

 

“It’s set! It’s set!” Seungsik shouts from the fridge. 

 

“It what?”

 

“The pudding, it’s set!” Seungsik hollers triumphantly. He withdraws a tray of individually dished puddings from the fridge, shutting the door with a bump of the hips. “Yes! I think this is the one, Sejun!”

 

“It’s the- the what?”

 

“This is the one!” Seungsik’s tiredness completely melts away, replaced with delirious happiness. He looks at his friend with the expression of a happy golden retriever, and his pupils move between Sejun and his puddings expectantly.

 

Sejun catches on quickly and asks, “Uh… What’s in these again?”

  
Setting the tray down to grab spoons, Seungsik rattles off the list of ingredients, “It’s simple, really! Vanilla powder, bananas, almond butter, some agave, almond milk, oh- and avocados, of course!”

 

“Right, of course. Avocados,” Sejun eyes the pale green pudding dubiously. 

 

“Well?” Seungsik looks at the other eagerly.

 

“Have you tried it?” 

 

“Sejun, I’ve eaten nothing but vanilla avocado pudding for the past twelve hours. Yes, I’ve tried it. And it’s delicious!” 

 

Sejun can practically see stars twinkling in his friend’s eyes. Despite his doubt, the thought of denying his adorable friend is almost criminal to him. With a defeated sigh, Sejun is worn down and grabs a spoon from Seungsik’s hand.

 

Seungsik watches excitedly as the other scoops out a heaping spoonful of pudding. He watches Sejun put it in his mouth slowly, closing his lips around the curved metal. A series of expressions present themselves on Sejun’s face. First, it’s something akin to confusion. Then, his face goes slack - like he’s shocked. His face wrinkles again in puzzlement, and afterwards he’s just blinking furiously. Finally, he raises his eyebrows and nods as if he’s reached a conclusion.

 

“Well?” Seungsik asks, hands clasped together hopefully, “What did you think?” While Sejun is nice enough to try almost anything, he’s never one to mince words when it comes to critique. Seungsik values the others palette more than anyone’s, and after years of friendship, he trusts him to tell him exactly how it is.

 

“It’s delicious,” Sejun says; he sounds shocked that the words came out of his mouth. 

 

“Delicious? Are you serious?”

 

“Yeah, man. It’s like… It’s really good. It’s… Unique. The avocado doesn’t really come through, but it lends the pudding this super creamy texture. The vanilla is just perfect in relation to the almond which - surprisingly - isn’t overpowering.”

 

“Yeah, I worked on that ratio. Almond tends to steal the show a lot…”

 

“Plus, the banana adds a really nice, subtle sweetness- as does the agave! I mean- it’s definitely nutty. This won’t appeal to someone who vehemently dislikes almond flavor, but as a pudding this is delicious! And- and the texture is so unreal. It’s like a dream,” Awe drips from Sejun’s voice as he praises the pudding.

 

“Yes! Yes!” Seungsik falls to his knees from sheer relief. He hadn’t spent all night on a massive waste (never mind the many bad batches). “Oh, thank heavens… I really wanted this to work.”

 

“You should test this on the menu today- as a special.”

 

“You really think it’s that good?”

 

“Definitely! I mean, it’s certainly different but, like you said: we should try to reach different people, right?”

 

“Oh my God- this is happening! This is so happening!” Seungsik bounces around with joy, giggling like a schoolgirl who’d been confessed to by her crush on Valentine’s. “Oh, did I tell you about my idea for a garnish?”

 

“What were you thinking?” Sejun asks, an eyebrow quirked. Now that he’s tasted the dish, he shows much more interest.

 

“Coconut whipped cream. Now, hear me out…”

 

The two nearly forget that they have actual routine baking to do. After finally getting coffee into their system, they rush to work, baking in a state of frenzy. 

 

* * *

 

Gray clouds loom above, and pattering rain wets the pavement in little droplets. Light distorts on the slick surface of the sidewalk and street. Water skids off of the little awnings adorning shopfronts.  The soft sound of raindrops hitting the ground wraps the entire town in a blanket of sound. Everything sounds softer and more peaceful when the soft pittering encases it. The weather seems to do little to dissuade the locals from going about their morning routines; people don umbrellas and raincoats, conducting business. 

 

Much to Han Seungwoo’s dismay, the raindrops do little to cool the air. The consequence is a rather muggy, miserable day - in his opinion. The therapist-in-training plods along the sidewalk on his way to work. His black umbrella isn’t very big, but it does the job. He’s mostly dry as he makes his way toward the Healing Center. Once again, he sees a line of people at the bakery window.

 

_ Even in this weather they line up, huh? _ He muses. _ Guess that’s what happens when everything closes at eight. People get up earlier. Yikes. _

 

Seungwoo strides straight past the line of people eagerly awaiting their morning pastry. He feels inclined to encourage those waiting to try other breakfast options, but he decides against it. After all, health is a choice. He can only save the world one patient at a time. 

 

The walk from his flat to the Healing Center isn’t the shortest. It’s about to kilometers, actually, but Seungwoo prefers it. A nice walk uphill is good morning cardio. Plus, in spite of his complaining, he kind of likes the scenery. As he leaves the village square, the town gets more residential. Little houses crop up over the hill, each one having a little acre to themself. Tall trees line the street, and the further away from the square Seungwoo gets, the narrower the road gets. His favorite stretch of the walk is closer to the center. Though it’s not incredibly extraordinary, the road is so narrow that the tree canopies overlap above it. It makes him feel like he’s walking in some sort of lush, green tunnel. 

 

As he walks down the slim road, Seungwoo can’t help but look up. Unlike usual, there’s no light painting little patterns between the foliage. Instead, the verdant grove catches the raindrops, creating a shelter of sorts. 

 

_ Pretty… _

 

Without realizing it, Seungwoo had stopped walking. He blinks confusedly, snapping out of it. 

 

_ Figures, I’m bored enough to get fascinated by the littlest of things. _

 

Seungwoo sighs to himself and carries on with his walk to the Healing Center.

 

_ Why do people seem to like it here so much, anyways? _

 

* * *

 

Afternoon fares no better for the patch of sky covering the town square. Dull gray stretches across the sky with no sign of an end. To make matters more precarious, the falling rain turns increasingly moody as the hours pass by. One minute, soft drizzle drifts down gently from the sky. The next, a torrential downpour crashes down in thick sheets, nearly beating down the earth itself. Those unfortunate enough to be caught in said downpour immediately clamber to the nearest bit of shelter they can cower under. All of the drama only lasts a few minutes before returning to its docile state.

 

“Please stay like this,” Hanse frowns, watching raindrops race down the bakery’s windows. 

 

“What? You mean you don’t wanna peddle your bike through a typhoon?” Sejun jokes from behind the counter.

 

The bakery is busier than it is on the typical weekday afternoon. On most sunny summer days, people are still out and about, at work, running errands. Yet, something about a bakery draws people in on rainy days. It happens without fail: people flock to the warm comfort of coffee and a pastry. The deep wood tones of the decor make the space feel warmer than it actually is, and the soft music playing pairs exceptionally well with the steady rhythm of raindrops outside. 

 

Small groups of people occupy the tables and well worn couches, chatting among themselves. Many huddle mugs of tea or coffee closely as if the weather is much colder than it actually is. Some tap away determinedly on laptops while a couple solitarily read a book. Sejun had tried to keep the ground as dry as possible, but he eventually conceded, putting up the wet floor sign and praying for their hardwood floor.

 

“Ding! Ding!”

 

The bell rings, signalling yet another customer’s entry. This time, it’s a familiar one. Sejun and Hanse both smile, greeting him at the same time.

 

“Welcome to Newvoice!” “Welcome to Newvoice Bakery!”

 

Jung Subin merely nods in response before heading toward his regular table. Hanse joins Sejun behind the table for his (also customary) “Subin Conversation”. The Subin Conversation starts the same way it always does:

 

“There he is. The pillar of enigma, at it again,” Hanse whispers to Sejun.

  
The older one rolls his eyes, operating the espresso machine as he chides the other, “You mean the pillar of customer loyalty? The kid comes in here every day. Cut him some slack.”

 

“I’m just saying, it’s not right. One of these days he’s gonna break.”

 

“Break?”

 

“Yeah, break- you know, like,” Hanse makes an exaggerated stabbing motion and follows it up with a pantomime of someone dying an agonizing death. 

 

“Wow, you’re right. If only he were a shining example of normal, acceptable behavior. Like you,” Sejun says sarcastically.

 

“What do you think he thinks about when he sits here in silence- look! See, he’s doing it right now!”

 

“Hanse, I swear to God.”

 

“Look at him- what is he looking at? What if he… What if he sees things we don’t?!”

 

“You’ve been watching too many of those alien documentaries again, haven’t you?”

 

“Come on! He’s just staring out the window, dude.”

 

“You realize some people like watching the rain fall. It’s soothing.”

 

“Why does the richest kid in town need soothing? Can’t he hire people for that? Or buy expensive pills- I dunno!”

 

“Maybe he wants a damn pastry, Hanse. I swear, one of these days the wrong customer is gonna overhear you talking crap and you’re gonna get beat up in an alley.”

 

“This is a small town, Sejun. We have, like, two alleys.”

 

“Fine. You’ll get beat up in an open field. Happy? You pedant.”

 

“I just wonder about him is all, I think he’s-”

 

“Boo!” All of a sudden, a person bursts out from behind Hanse, jabbing their fingers into the delivery boy’s sides. 

 

Like a train wreck, or dominos falling, things rapidly escalate from there.

 

“Ah!” Hanse nearly jumps through the ceiling, eyes blown wide open. In reflexive reaction to the tickling, his body catapults itself halfway across the back of the pastry case. In the mess of flailing limbs, one of the cakes on display gets caught in the fray. Hanse’s elbow catches the confection and its plate (along with it) comes crashing to the ground. Things seem to move in slow motion as Sejun’s jaw drops and the mysterious perpetrator shrinks back in surprise. By some miracle, the cake lands plate-side down. 

 

The miracle turns out to be a sham, however. The cake lands safely, but Hanse does not. He stumbles, and suddenly his body jolts backwards. After an ill founded attempt to regain balance, he finally falls flat on his butt. Hanse merely sits in shock for a few seconds.

 

Slowly, he gets up, wide-eyed and half-dead from the sudden heart attack that’d been inflicted on him. He glances over his shoulder to give the perpetrator his dirtiest look.

 

“You,” Hanse says, narrowing his eyes.

 

“H-hey Hanse,” Chan replies weakly. He hides behind Sejun sheepishly. 

 

“You,” Hanse turns to face his perpetrator (well, to face Sejun - behind whom the perpetrator is hiding).

 

“Me,” Chan says.

 

“While I’m a big fan of a cowboy standoff, Seungsik will be back from his break any minute, and I’d really like for you to not be doing-” He gestures vaguely between the two, “-this.”

 

Hanse huffs, but decides to take a high ground. He turns on his heel and starts heading toward the back. A loud snort makes him stop.

 

“This is workplace abuse!” Hanse says, crossing his arms. “What is so funny?!” He doesn’t even bother turning around.

 

“N-Nothing,” Chan says, obviously holding back a laugh.

 

“Yeah, just get cleaned up,” Sejun says cooly, “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure it’ll be a piece of cake.”

 

Chan snorts loudly again, breaking out into a hushed giggle. That sets off Hanse’s mental alarm, and once again he faces his two coworkers.

 

“Why is that so funny?” Hanse asks, eyed narrowed into slits of suspicion.

 

“It’s- it’s not,” Chan speaks up (still behind Sejun), “It’s not funny. Nothing is funny. Sejun’s right we should make sure everything is…  _ Piece _ -ful before Seungsik gets back.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much, though,” Sejun adds, “Seungsik is pretty laid  _ bake  _ for a boss.”

 

“He’s what?” Hanse looks at the other two - part angry, part confused.

 

“You  _ batter  _ get cleaned up, though,” Chan titters.

 

“Okay- why the heck are you speaking in puns right now?!” Hanse throws his hands up in the air, done with the world.

 

“There’s a cake stuck to your butt,” An unfamiliar voice says frankly from the other side of the counter. The eyes of every employee present shoot to the customer, blown open wide in horror. More shocking is who the customer is:

  
The ever silent Jung Subin.

 

They’d just acted like complete morons in front of rich, influential, RBF, possibly Satan, Jung Subin.

 

Hanse swallows nervously, and Chan ducks down even further. Sejun blinks rapidly, trying to formulate a PR friendly response that’ll assure that nobody hears of the cake-butt incident. Subin never comes up to the counter. Ever. At least, he hasn’t since his first few times visiting.

 

“U-uh-uh, uh- can I help you?” Sejun asks. He prepares a dozen apologies in his head, just in case.

 

Subin ignores him; his eyes are locked onto Hanse with the focus of a predator watching its prey. Hanse doesn’t miss this detail and he immediately checks his butt - to see if what the other had told him is true.

 

It is.

 

Hanse had, in fact, taken a seat on a strawberry cake. His butt looks like a horror scene, covered in white frosting, yellow cake, and red jam. It almost impresses him that the entire cake managed to stick on his butt - not a single morsel had fallen off! His amazement is slightly dampened by the fact that a customer had seen. The delivery boy opens his mouth to say something, but when he looks at Subin, he can’t. He closes his mouth and, without another syllable, waddles off to the back.

 

A snort sounds out, drawing the attention of Sejun and the cowering Chan.

 

Then another.

 

And another.

 

Until finally it breaks.  _ He  _ breaks.

 

Jung Subin’s aloof exterior crumbles, and laughter blossoms across his face. He throws his head back, and his nose scrunches. His laugh echoes loudly across the bakery (it even draws attention). It takes so much of his breath that he has to lean on the pastry case for support. He laughs and laughs and laughs, and all Sejun and Chan can do is watch in wonder. Even Hanse, humiliated as he is, peeks his head out from the kitchen to witness the site. Even though the rain still falls outside, they feel as if the clouds had parted inside Newvoice. Between them a ray of sunshine shines down; that ray being one Jung Subin. Who’d have thought?

 

Chan chuckles, muttering to Sejun, “Seungsik’s gonna be so mad he missed this.”

 

Sejun nods in agreement, “He probably won’t even believe it.”

 

“I- I just-” Subin chokes out a few words between laughs in an attempt to elaborate on his presence. “-I just wanted to- to see if everything was- was okay. I saw the fall and- oh my god it hurts - he- he sat in the cake! Cake butt! He has a-  _ a cake butt! _ ” The boy has no choice but to cradle his head in his arms, and his chest heaves with his riotous laughter.

 

Turns out, Jung Subin is more like them than they’d thought.

 

* * *

 

“That’s all I can do today,” A patient shakes his head as she huffs and puffs. The lady is middle aged. She got into an accident in her youth and, as a result, has had a bad knee for a long time. Her recent surgery had gone well, but she seemed to be struggling with recovery. After issues with a previous clinic, she’d been directed to Sunrise by a friend of hers. The woman lays on the hamstring curl bench, beads of sweat dropping down her head.

 

Evening crawls into night as the sun dips down beneath the horizon. Due to all the trees in the area and the position of the Healing Center, it’d started looking dark awhile before. The main gym is mostly empty, save for Seungwoo, his mentor, Chorong, and their patient. Though it’s only been a few days, the resident already feels fairly acclimated.

 

Sunrise seems to send their residents straight into the fire. Seungwoo doesn’t feel untrained or unprepared; it’s moreso that they don’t mess around. They’re selective about who they bring on and expect excellence and adaptability. 

 

Seungwoo loves it. He loves the challenge and responsibility. He loves being hands on, and most of all, he loves being able to work directly with patients. It makes him feel like it’s worth it - moving to the country and all. Being in a classroom or doing busywork has always felt soulsucking to him. Actually doing something, that’s what Seungwoo loves.

 

Seungwoo gives the patient a small grin and nods, “You’ve worked really hard today Mrs. Lin. I know you’re very tired, but I bet you can do one more curl.”

 

“Oh, please,” Mrs. Lin laughs - she’s got a good spirit which Seungwoo is thankful for. A lot of patients aren’t nearly as good-natured. “Take it easy on an old woman, will you?”

 

“Just one,” Seungwoo holds his finger up, “One more is all I want. You can do that, okay?”

 

“I really don’t know…”

 

_ Well I’m the professional _ , Seungwoo wants to say. He doesn’t. Even if she doesn’t think she can,  that’s fine. He figures part of the profession is believing in people when they don’t believe in themselves.

 

“You have three kids, don’t you?” Seungwoo says, grinning at her. 

 

“Yes, I do,” Mrs. Lin answers, her face scrunching into a humored but confused expression.

 

“See, you’ve given birth.  _ Three times _ . This is  _ way  _ easier than that. I’m just asking you to push for one more curl!”

 

The patient giggles, “Well, you’re not wrong about that! Okay… Okay… Give me a second. I can do… Just one more…” Slowly, Ms. Lin does just that, lifting her calves. She nudges up the weight gradually, and her faces scrunches with exertion. 

 

“Ah! I told you,” Seungwoo says in a singsong voice, clapping his hands, “I knew you could do another one!”

 

“Nice!” Chorong added, a wide smile across her lips as well.

 

Mrs. Lin drops the weight and exhales, “I really did it, oh my gosh.”

 

“Yes,” Chorong nods, clearly very satisfied, “Very good, Mrs. Lin. With that, you’re done. My goodness, with your progress we may be able to bump you down to once a week sessions soon!”

 

Sitting up, Mrs. Lin looks incredibly pleased. Seeing her smile makes Seungwoo giddy in turn. He gets a weird high when he sees a patient happy, it’s like getting a pat on the back for a job well done.

 

“Don’t say that,” Seungwoo jokes, “You’re already one of my favorites!”

 

“I have to get better some time!” The patient says playfully. 

 

“Ugh,  _ fine _ . If you insist,” Seungwoo chuckles.

 

Chorong gestures toward the door into the hall “Alright, Mrs. Lin, if you’ll follow me this way we can check you out…”

 

* * *

 

“You surprise me,” Is the first thing Seungwoo hears from Chorong when she finishes up with Mrs. Lin. Seungwoo had been cleaning up the equipment after their appointment in the gym. He quirks an eyebrow, confused.

 

“Huh?” He says.

 

“You surprise me,” Chorong repeats herself.

 

“Is- is that a good thing, ma’am?” Seungwoo stands up straight. Everyone at Sunrise is so amiable, sometimes it’s easy to forget there’s a hierarchy. He tries to respect that, eyeing his senior attentively.

 

Chorong nods, “Yes, it is.” She smiles.

 

“May I ask how I surprise you?” He can’t help but wonder. What’s that supposed to mean?

 

“Well, you seem like a pretty cool customer most of the time. You’re very respectful as well.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

 

“You don’t talk much to the other residents, though, do you? You don’t like small talk at all.”

 

“I do not,” Seungwoo’s pupils flit away sheepishly. He doesn’t think himself mean, per se, but he doesn’t always play nice with others, either. It’s not that he actively dislikes people; he merely likes being independent. He’s fairly content by himself, and he’d rather spend time alone than force himself to fraternize with peers he doesn’t genuinely connect with.

 

“You don’t,” Chorong corroborates the statement. “But… With patients, you’re surprisingly warm and charming. Even with that ornery old veteran this morning- you managed to turn every curse he threw at you into a joke. I swear I saw him crack a smile when you weren’t looking!”

 

“Just trying to give the patients the best care I can, ma’am.”

 

“Well, keep it up. You know what sets us apart from other physical therapy clinics in the region- the country, even?”

 

_ The beautiful facilities? The spa-like aesthetics? Being nestled in the middle of nowhere? _

 

“What?”

 

Chorong laughs like she’s got a secret, “Think of it as a riddle. When you figure it out, come get me- or Eunji.”

 

“Wait- really?” Seungwoo can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness.

 

“Yep,” Chorong grins ear to ear. “Alright, now finish cleaning. We’ve got two more this evening!”

 

“Yes, ma’am!”

 

* * *

 

Seungwoo walks down the canopied path toward the town square. He’d ended up staying a bit after his time to help with some extra cleaning, setting him back an hour. Not that he cares. On the contrary, he’s relieved. He’d rather do nothing but work all summer than roll around in his bed, bored out of his skull. The weather doesn’t really mix well with late-night runs, either, which means Seungwoo would’ve been more bored otherwise. He thanks God that there was extra work and hopes there’s more the next day.

 

“Craaaaaaaaaash!!”

 

_ Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good. _ His eyes widen, and he glances up at the sky.  _ Oh crap. _

 

It looks like it’s about to split open and unleash all hell onto the unsuspecting little town. Deep gray and blue clouds churn and move ominously above. Looking in front of himself, Seungwoo can see the fat drops of rain coming toward him. He reaches for his umbrella in his bag only to realize a fatal mistake: he’d left it in his locker.

 

_ Oh, I hate this. I hate this so much. _

 

“Craash!”

 

This time, he can see the flash of lightning across the sky. It illuminates everything and nearly dazzles the student for a second. As if cued by the lightning, the raindrops triple in size. The gentle rapping of droplets against pavement escalates to a loud pattering. The fat drops practically hurt Seungwoo as he dejectedly walks through them. A chill runs down his spine as the wet seeps in through his clothes.

 

_ Fantastic. _

 

* * *

 

Seungsik yawns loudly, stretching while doing it. He glances back at his computer screen and the numbers start blurring and meshing together. He’d been doing numbers at the frontmost table in the dining area, minding his own business, when a fit of sleepiness mercilessly attacked. The rainfall still persists as consistently as ever. Its rhythm sounds quite nice; it filters in through the windows as a soft white noise. Combined with the chill hip-hop he likes to play in the evening, it’s actually pretty nice.

 

Too nice, really.

 

_ I’m gonna fall asleep _ , Seungsik sighs. He rubs his eyes hard in an attempt to wake himself up. The day had gone decently well. They’d sampled a small portion of the pudding concoction on the menu, and a few adventurous types had even tried it. The reviews coming back were mostly positive, too! Overall, he’s pretty thrilled considering how exotic the concoction sounds.

 

“Beep. Beep.” The coffee maker chimes, indicating the fresh pot is done brewing.

 

“Please wake me up,” Seungsik mutters as he lumbers over to the kitchen. It seems his late night is finally taking a toll on him. Rivulets of steam dance up from the dark liquid as he pours it into his mug. The smell alone gives the baker some much needed lucidity, and he’s thankful for that. He finishes off, throwing his regular dose of cream and sugar in before heading back to his seat.

 

“It really is coming down,” He says to nobody in particular. As if challenged by his words, a bolt of lightning strikes. For an instant, white light flashes across the sky. 

 

“Craaash!”

 

The thunder comes a second later, and it smashes through the air so fiercely that it makes Seungsik jump. Suddenly, the rain no longer falls in droplets, but sheets. Wind kicks up torrents of falling water, making it fall sideways. It’s like something just really pissed off mother nature. 

 

So much for the nice, calm, rainy night. Seungsik pouts. At the very least, he’s already indoors. His walk home is literally a joke - it’s just a trip up a staircase. 

 

_ Yup _ , Seungsik thinks,  _ I’ll just watch here from the safety of my bakery, thank you very much. _

 

Just as he’s about to settle into his seat, Seungsik sees something. In the middle of the storm, there’s a figure. Immediately, Seungsik’s first reaction is to panic. He wonders if a serial killer’s after him, or if it’s the devil himself.  _ What kind of a creeper is out taking a walk at this hour? In this weather?! _ He wonders. 

 

Impishly, Seungsik scuttles up to his window, watching the person in awe with his coffee in hand. Though they get closer, he finds no luck in discerning their features. Maybe it’s a delirious older person who’s confused. Or someone drunk… The mysterious rain-walker reaches the stretch of sidewalk in front of the bakery.

 

Abruptly, his body lurches. His arms flail, and he stumbles. Though a hearty attempt is made, there’s no hope in making a recovery. The poor, drenched soul falls forward, scraping across the wet concrete.

 

“Oh, no!” Seungsik gasps. He throws his coffee onto the counter and runs out the door. The sound of thunder and rain fill his ears as he rushes to the person’s side.

 

They remain hunched over, dazed and dripping wet. It sends the baker into what his friends sometimes recall as “mom overdrive”. Mouth agape, Seungsik pulls the person up. The person - a man, so it turns out - merely groans, clearly slightly dazed from his fall. His black zip-up hoodie is soaked through, and he shudders from the slight chill it gives him. 

 

“Are you okay?!” Seungsik asks, leading the person in. Immediately as the door shuts, the sound muffles. Low fidelity beats overpower falling water and the ensuing sense of quiet makes everything feel infinitely calmer indoors. “Here, sit here.” The baker pulls out a chair from the front table and ushers the poor person into it. Streams of water run down their clothes, creating a puddle on the floor. 

 

“Let me get you a towel,” Seungsik offers, sparing no time to stride to the back. He shouts behind himself, “And coffee! Do you like coffee? It’s fresh and hot!”

 

“U-uhm, black, please,” The man says. “And, um, bandages, please, too. If you can spare-”

 

“Of course!” The baker cuts him off. He rifles through the back room, getting what he needs. He returns hastily, a cup of coffee in one hand, towels and first-aid supplies in the other.

 

“Here,” Seungsik says softly, setting the coffee down gently. “You said you needed bandages, I have this kind-” He holds up a roll of medical bandages, “-is that okay? Or did you want band-aids?”

 

“Bandages are fine,” The man says. He graciously accepts the extended offering.

 

“Where’d you get hurt?” Seungsik asks, his elevated heartrate slightly slowing down.

 

The man simply holds the palms of his hands up, and Seungsik shrinks back in horror. Layers of skin are peeled back after having been scraped away by the sidewalk. A few flecks of blood pool up atop otherwise porcelain skin. Seungsik averts his eyes quickly, handing the other some alcohol wipes. Just the thought of how much it would sting makes the baker shudder.

 

He feels weirdly useless not doing anything, so he takes the liberty of toweling draping a towel over the other’s shoulders.

 

“Thank you,” The man finally says when he’s finished wrapping his palms. He flexes them experimentally, and though Seungsik can’t see his face, he can tell the man is displeased. He supposes he can’t blame him, he would be to. It begs the question: what was the man doing out, anyways?

 

“It’s no problem,” Seungsik heaves a sigh and takes the seat across from him. He nudges the black coffee toward the other, urging him, “Drink up. It shouldn’t be too hot. Oh- and don’t forget to dry off a bit. I can lend you an umbrella so the rest of your walk is drier.” He flashes a reassuring grin.

 

“That’s… That’s very kind of you,” The man, who’d spent his time slouched with his head down, finally looks up at Seungsik.

 

“What am I gonna do, watch you basically drown out there?” Seungsik chuckles at his own joke, glancing up at the man. “I’m perfectly happy to hel…”

 

_ Hell no. Oh. Hell. No. _

 

It takes every ounce of composure he possesses to not show how devastated he is on his face. The man he’d rescued from the storm was no other than him! Him! The world’s most bitter human being! Pure, concentrated rudeness, encased in an incredibly beautiful, muscular body. Not that that’s the point! The point is, he’s mean, cynical, has a weird vendetta against baked goods, and is rude. He’s all of those things and…

 

Really gorgeous.

 

Seungsik doesn’t think he’s seen a face like that in his life. The guy has pretty, puppy-like eyes and plush, heart-shaped lips. His nose is a perfect, long slope - much like Seungsik’s own which he, personally, hates. The other man’s face is dignified with high cheekbones, and his jawline is perfectly contoured without being jarring or sharp. 

 

It kind of makes Seungsik hate him even more.

 

* * *

 

_ Oh. Crap. _

 

Those are the first words that pop up in Seungwoo’s mind when he makes eye contact with the other guy.

 

_ Does he recognize me?  _

 

Are the next ones. He swallows nervously, feeling incredible guilt mount on his shoulders with each passing second. With an awkward chuckle, he speaks.

 

“I-I’m sorry, you, um… You trailed off,” Seungwoo said.

 

_ Crap. This is too awkward! I’m going to die. Lord help me! _

 

“I was saying that, um-” The baker’s pupils flit away nervously. There’s a pressure filling the room fast like a sort of fog. Fantastic. “I’m happy to help. Yeah- that. Ha! J-just, um- you can stay here as long as you like,” He looks down into his coffee like it’s more interesting than the person in front of him.

 

_ Fine. I hate smalltalk. I didn’t wanna chat anyways _ , Seungwoo pouts internally. He glances outside, and it’s still coming down in sheets. A frown crosses his lips when he realizes he’s essentially imprisoned in a bakery of all places for at least the next ten minutes - until it passes. If he’s lucky, the baker guy will throw his umbrella at the student and Seungwoo can run away sooner, but he’s not so sure he wants to brave it as it is.

 

Even though it’s not very cold outside, a chill sets into Seungwoo’s bones. He can feel goosebumps pricking his skin, calling every little inch to attention. His eyes fall on his own coffee, and he wraps his hands around it with glee. The warmth stings his fingers as it seeps into his body. It’s an incredibly welcome sensation. He gazes into the dark liquid and unconsciously sighs. 

 

_ Maybe a bit of peace and quiet will do me good _ . He muses. His eyes scan the area; the student realizes that he’d never even bothered taking a look through the window at the place.  _ It’s pretty nice here, actually. Kinda chic. Like places in the city. The music is good, too. And for the coffee…  _ Timidly, he takes a sip. It doesn’t burn his tongue, thankfully. The welcome warmth runs down his throat, filling his entire body with a fuzzy glow of sorts. That’s good, too.

 

“So, do you work here all the time?” Seungwoo asks. What the hell!? He snaps his lips shut quickly, completely shocked that he’d even asked. Sure, the curiosity had obviously crossed his mind, but that didn’t mean he wanted to ask it out loud. Much to his chagrin, it’s too late to take it back. His eyes nervously fall on the baker, who seems just as surprised at the question as he is.

 

“U-uh, yeah,” He responds. “I’m, um, it’s a family business. I basically run the place- except for on weekends when Mom and Dad take over.”

 

“Whoa, really? You don’t look that old, though-”

 

“I’m not! Old. I’m not old- at least, I like to think I’m not.”

 

Seungwoo narrows his eyes at the man for a second, assessing him. He really doesn’t look old at all. Something about him is almost childlike. Maybe it’s just his round cheeks, or the way he carries himself. He seemed pretty jolly that one morning, but it could’ve been just an act. Running a bakery is a big responsibility, though; Seungwoo doubts it’d be something a family would trust with someone immature. 

 

“How old are you?” He asks bluntly.

 

The baker’s got a flush across his face when he answers, “I-I’m twenty-four.”

 

“Whoa, that young?” Seungwoo gasps, “That’s only a year younger than me.”  _ I’m impressed. _ He wants to say. He doesn’t, though. He just looks down at his coffee again. The kid  _ was _ raised with the business.  _ It’s not that out of the ordinary, right? So what if he… That guy… He- _

_  
_ _ Wait, I don’t even know his name! Should I ask it? Is it awkward? It’s been awhile and we haven’t even exchanged names… Should I not bother? Is it too late!? _

 

“Hey,” Seungwoo says, “What’s your name?” It comes out more like a demand than a polite request, which the PT student chides himself for.

 

“M-me?” The baker sputters, clearly taken aback.

 

_ Who else? _

 

“My name is Kang Seungsik.”

 

“Han Seungwoo,” The student replies, “Sorry I hadn’t asked earlier. I guess the whole being soaking wet thing distracted me.”

 

“No worries, I’m just glad you’re alright. If you’re okay with me asking: what were you doing out there anyways?”

 

Seungwoo sighs, his pupils flitting away sheepishly, “I was walking back from work, but I totally left my umbrella there.”  _ I don’t know why I’m telling this guy. It’s so embarrassing. Why does it matter what I was doing?!  _ “You’re, um, you’re closed, aren’t you?” Seungwoo asks, eyeing the hanging sign in the front door. The chalk sign is conspicuously flipped to the “CLOSED” side, leaving the “OPEN” facing the two inside.

 

Seungsik shrugs, “Working. I could sit in the back but it’s sort of a dungeon. I like it out here more. I can look out the window and the plants keep me company.”

 

Seungwoo snorts at that, “Yeah, I bet they make  _ great _ company.”

 

“They’re better than my employees,” Seungsik shrugs, a little grin playing at the edges of his lips. “They don’t break things and make pastries ‘magically disappear’.”

 

“Sounds like they should be on the payroll.”

 

“I water them and they get to live here without paying rent! That’s pay enough.”

 

“Good point. Plus putting the oxygen out into the air counts for work, right?”

 

“Exactly! God knows we need it with the amount my employees suck it out,” Seungsik laughs.

 

Seungwoo can’t help but chuckle too, it’s a bit contagious, “Well, they make the place nice- the plants I mean. I, um, I dunno about the people. I’ve never been in before, but… Whoever arranged it did well.”

 

Seungsik scratches the back of his neck and glances away sheepishly. There’s a deepening blush creeping across his cheeks.

 

“Wait- was it you?!” Seungwoo’s eyes widen with disbelief.

 

“W-well I… Maybe… Yeah...”

 

“Seriously?!”

 

“It’s not like I did everything. God knows the jungle in here would be dead if I had to tend it by myself, but well, you know…”

 

“I know what?”

 

“Th-that whole… Eclectic, vintage thing is in and it was really easy to source stuff- like, most of it was either already bakery property or in storage from the family,” Seungsik looks across the bakery. “Everything else is sourced locally. When we told people we wanted to give the place a facelift, they were more than happy to help. We got everyone’s old chairs… Lamps… That bench over there? It’s an old church pew! Some of the tables are made with recycled wood. I liked the concept because it’s modern but it still totally fits, you know?”

 

“You nailed it,” Seungwoo remarks.

 

“Hey, uh, if you don’t mind me asking: where do you work? It’s pretty close if you walk, right?”

 

“Sunrise Healing Center- you know, up the hill.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. I’m- I’m not a PT there, just a resident for the summer.”

 

“Ah, there it is,” Seungsik nods as if he’d just solved some complex equation. 

 

“There what is?” Seungwoo quirks an eyebrow. He’s not sure he likes the baker’s tone.

 

“Oh- It’s- it’s nothing, just that, like, clearly you’re not from around here. Like, at all.”

 

“That obvious, huh?”

 

“Well, it’s a small town. I’ve lived here my whole life and never seen you.”

 

“What made you so sure we just hadn’t missed each other?”

 

“For over twenty years?” Seungsik laughs again, and it’s a sight to behold. He has a pretty smile that stretches widely across his face, and his eyes scrunch. He throws his head back a little. It’s cute, and Seungwoo envies him. He wishes he looked cute or charming, but he feels like he’s just got eternal resting bitch face. If a conscious effort isn’t being made, people tell him he looks snobbish, annoyed or even intimidating. He imagines that Seungsik doesn’t have that problem.

 

“Alright, you got me,” Seungwoo puts his hands up facetiously. “You gonna take me in? Ya’ll don’t take kindly to outsiders- that kind of thing?”

 

“Yeah we pray to our tribal weather gods to make it rain  _ really _ hard on them. Seems like it’s worked so far.”

 

“Is that what you guys do on weekends? Because honestly I’m not sure what else there is from what I’ve seen.”

 

“Hm,” Seungsik purses his lips momentarily, “You from a big city.”

 

“ _ The _ big city.”

 

“Wow. This must be a far departure from that.”

 

“Just a bit,” Seungwoo chuckles, “I definitely am… Adjusting. To lots of things.”

 

“Must break your heart not to hear sirens all the time.”

 

“The cicadas are almost worse. And the crickets? I’ve only heard crickets in real life like… Twice! At least, before coming here. Ugh… Jokes aside I miss, though. I miss it already.”

 

“Miss your family?”

 

“No- I mean, yeah, I do, but I didn’t even live with them. I just… Miss the lights. The people. Always having stuff to do, that sort of stuff. Not a single tavern and a bunch of shops that close at seven o’ clock.”

 

“Don’t you get claustrophobia being sandwiched in with all those people?”

 

“It’s tight, but I like the lifestyle, so it’s totally worth it.”

 

“I guess it’d be nice not to have to drive all the time, but sometimes the idea of trains scare me.”

 

“They’re not that hard to figure out. Ugh… I miss it so much,” Seungwoo can’t help but rest his head in his hands, daydreaming about it. The lights, the people, the honking horns and smog. It’s not necessarily butterflies and rainbows, but it’s home.

 

“Don’t worry, the summer will end before you know it. You can go back really, really soon. Until then, I hope you’re not  _ too _ miserable here,” Seungsik chuckles. His face says happy, but something about his tone belies bitterness.

 

_ Why does it sound like he  _ wants _ me to leave town?! _

 

Just as Seungwoo tries to recover his fumbled words, Seungsik bursts out of his chair.

 

Oh, crap. He’s gonna kick me out, isn’t he? 

 

Except, he does no such thing. Instead, he goes back into the kitchen. Seungwoo merely watches as the baker disappears, reappearing moments later. When he comes back out, there’s a little cup in his hand and a spoon. A snack?

 

“Clonk.”

 

The cup and spoon are practically slammed down in front of Seungwoo. He actually, physically flinches from the suddenness of it. Without any context whatsoever, Seungsik demands:

 

“Try it.”

 

“What?” Seungwoo glances down at the cup. Clearly, it’s a pudding cup. It’s actually fairly cute. The contents are a faint mint green color, and a dollop of whipped cream sits on top. The portion is petite - no bigger than one of the little puddings people buy in stores. His head tilts in confusion.  _ Why is it green? _ “Uhhhh, um, I-” Oh no, not this again. Be nice, Seungwoo. Be nice. “I don’t really eat swee-”

 

“It’s healthy,” Seungsik cuts him off suddenly. The baker looks at the other with a peculiarly intense gaze, looming over him ominously.

 

“It’s… Pudding,” Seungwoo murmurs, looking back down at the tiny cup on the table.

 

“It’s  _ alternative _ pudding,” Seungsik remarks triumphantly as if he’s just announced some monumental discovery.

 

“Alternative pudding?”

 

“Yes, alternative pudding. Nutritious pudding.”

 

“Uhh-”

 

“There’s no dairy or even sugar in it- well, unless you count the sugar naturally occurring in the ingredients.”

 

“What’s in it?”

 

“It’s base is actually avocados-”

 

“Avocados?!” Seungwoo’s eyes widen in fear.

 

“Yes! Avocados! God, why does everyone look at me like that! They’re a great source of healthy fats and potassium, dammit!”

 

“O...Kay. Is that why this is slightly green, then?”

 

“Mhm!” Seungsik chirps. “Next biggest component is almond butter, then there’s banana, vanilla powder - made from just vanilla extract - um, oh a kiss of agave nectar - which is non glycemic by the way - and stevia. The whip on top is just coconut cream,” He finishes triumphantly.

 

“Hm,” Is all Seungwoo can respond. It’s not bad, in his opinion. While using things like banana and avocado don’t promise low calorie count, it is nutritious. There’s lots of good fats, potassium, and vitamins there like he’d said. The addition of almond butter amps up the cal count more than Seungwoo would like, but it’s fairly healthy in its own rite. He glances at the baker - who’s watching him closely - and back at the pudding.

 

Shit. I have to try this, don’t I? The guy gives me bandages and coffee and towels. I have to try this.

 

Dejectedly, Seongwoo sighs. He picks up the spoon nervously, and slowly, he lowers it toward the cup. The student takes the tiniest dollop of pudding he can possibly justify. His spoon shakes as he brings it to his mouth until finally, he puts it in. Seungwoo squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation of recoiling in disgust.

 

He blinks his eyes open and withdraws the spoon from between his lips. 

 

Then he takes another spoonful.

 

And another.

 

And another.

 

Holy crap, this is so good! Seungwoo can hardly believe he’s living real life in that moment. The pudding is unlike anything he’s ever put in his mouth before. The avocado base gives it a silky texture, and the almond with vanilla is a classic combo perfectly executed. Just as the baker had said, there’s just a kiss of sweetness given by the addition of agave and stevia. It makes the pudding feel like a gratifying dessert without being sickening. Seungwoo’s fairly certain he could jump headfirst into a vat of the stuff and be pretty content. Sure, he’d die, but it’d be a happy death.

 

“D-do you like it?” Seungsik asks nervously. Seungwoo had nearly forgotten the other was there. 

 

Taking his fourth or fifth spoonful out of his mouth, he nods emphatically, “It’s actually really good.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, really.”

 

“Like… Really really.”

 

“Really really  _ really _ ?”

 

“Yes. I won’t say it again,” Seungwoo says.

 

Seungsik clasps his hands together and bounces up and down a bit. Obviously, he’s thrilled, but he looks like he’s not trying to show it. Seungwoo supposes he’s glad for the other’s apparent triumph. 

 

“I’m glad,” Seungsik says with a wide grin, “I’m um… I’m trying to branch out a bit. Try new things.”

 

“Well, I guess you’re on the right track,” Seungwoo comments, spooning the last of his pudding into his mouth. 

 

Upon finishing, he sighs contently, and his eyes drift out toward the window. Without either of the two realizing, the rain had cleared up significantly. It’s by no means blue skies and sunshine, but the rain no longer falls horizontally. Seungwoo starts to wonder how long he’d even been there. It only felt like a couple minutes, but they had gotten a bit caught up, didn’t they?

 

“Oh, look,” Seungsik notices it, too, “The rain’s cleared up. Thank goodness. I was afraid we’d have power outages…”

 

“Yeah, I better go,” Seungwoo says, standing up sheepishly. As much fun as his foray into small town smalltalk had been, he’s more than ready to take a shower (the kind you get under a metal nozzle, not the sky). “Thank you so much for everything. Oh, um-” He reaches for his pocket, “How much is everything? The coffee and pudding-”

 

“Whoa. No, no, no,” Seungsik puts a hand up, “I am not taking your money.”

 

“It’s fine, really. I ate your pudding and drank your coffee. Not to mention the puddle I made.”

 

“No means no. Final answer. Now put that away,” The baker says, looking pointedly at Seungwoo’s wallet.

 

“Fine. Alright, well, I guess I’ll head out. Thanks again.”

 

“Any time. I’ll walk you to the do- oh, wait,” Seungsik’s eyebrows raise. “You’ve, uh,” He chuckles, “You’ve got something on your cheek.”

 

“I- what?”

 

“Here,” Seungsik grabs one of the towels he’d been using, “It’s on your cheek.”

 

Seungwoo snatches the towel out of Seungsik’s hand and starts wiping his face blindly. Heat pricks his face, and he can feel the red spread across.

 

“Did I get it?”

 

“Um, well, no it’s like- I dunno how it got so high up it’s like,” Seungsik points at the top of Seungwoo’s cheekbone. 

 

“Here?” Seungwoo asks, wiping.

 

“No, no, higher, just-”

 

“Here?”

 

“A little higher.”

 

“Up here?”

 

“Um, can I just- it’s gonna drive me crazy if- I mean- Oh, you got it!” Seungsik sighs in relief, like it’d been his face splattered with pudding. “Okay, let me walk you out. Wait- the umbrella!”

 

“That’s fine,” Seungwoo shakes his head, “I live across the street, I’m sure I can reach there before any major damage is done.”

 

“Oh, well that makes us neighbors, I guess.”

 

“Neighbors?”

 

“I live upstairs,” Seungsik points at the ceiling.

 

“Damn. Convenient.”

 

“It is. Alright, well, I’ll um- good night!”

 

“Yeah,” For real this time, Seungwoo thinks. The two head to the door, and Seungwoo reaches for the doorknob. 

 

So does Seungsik.

 

In what is perhaps the most embarrassing thing to happen yet, Seungwoo’s fingers accidentally tangle with Seungsik’s when they grab the doorknob at the sametime.

 

Lightning strikes - but not outdoors. Electricity sparks in Seungwoo’s fingertips and runs through his veins to his chest. As if traveling on a livewire, the sensation fizzles down to his toes, making his entire body buzz. His heart lurches, and a flurry of electricity flares in his chest. 

 

_ What the heck? _ Seungwoo asks himself. He swallows nervously; a lump had risen in his throat without his knowing. He stands dazed for a second, paralyzed by shock. Somehow, among all the weird little feelings bubbling up inside him, a sentence prevails above them all. Seungwoo remembers something he’d read not long ago:

 

_ “... _ _ so you never know, you might find that spark with who you least expect!” _

 

_ Nuh-uh. _ Seungwoo tells himself.  _ No way. _

 

“Are you okay?” Seungsik’s voice pulls Seungwoo back into the real world. The student looks at the other, surprised. Glancing at the doorknob, he sees that Seungsik had already taken his hand off. Yikes.

 

“Wh- Oh- I’m- I’m fine. Sorry, totally zoned for a sec,” Seungwoo chuckles awkwardly, trying to play it off.

 

“You sure?” Seungsik asks. It’s surprising. He looks so adorable normally, but when he wears a more serious expression, there’s a handsomeness about him. His face actually has some very masculine features. He’s cute but also undeniably a man - a man with a nurturing soul and infectious smile.

 

Seungwoo lets out a rapidfire of words as he departs,“Yeah I’m sure goodbye nice to meet you sorry about being rude bye!” He waves frantically, nearly bolting out the door. The PT student prays that he’s not being watched as he makes a break for his place. It’s still raining, but he doesn’t care. Heat still stings his face, and his stomach does flip flops.

 

_ No _ .

  
He thinks.

 

Seungwoo keeps shaking his head.

 

_ Nope.  _

 

_ We are not about to have a crush on some random guy in some hick town. This is not happening. This is NOT HAPPENING! _

 

_ Unbelievable. _

 

_ It’s just unbelievable.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // thank you guys for reading this story!! i intend on putting more short stories in this series so don't think it ends here ;)

**Author's Note:**

> // This is a work of fiction and is meant to be read as such. Thank you for reading!  
> Thanks to Chikabow for beta-ing as always!!


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